Unbroken: Alone in the Infinite
by MasamuneZERO
Summary: A third path, taken only once. This Booker DeWitt, distinct from every other Booker DeWitt and Zachary Comstock, learns of the fate his alternate selves suffer. He sits in silent vigil as the terrible cycle repeats before his eyes, watching his and his daughter's alternate selves struggle to break free of it. Suggest reading Bioshock Infinite: Unbroken and Song of Sorrow first.
1. Booker's Vigil

**Author's Note: This (originally a one-shot) story has aspects of my Bioshock Infinite: Unbroken and Song of Sorrow near the end. If you haven't read them yet, I highly suggest reading them first. Also, as with all of my Unbroken stories, spoilers for Bioshock Infinite and Burial at Sea. Reviews and comments would be appreciated.**

* * *

1920

"Why? Why did it have to end that way?"

Raising his head from his desk, the words he'd mumbled as he woke still echoing in his ears, Booker DeWitt stares blankly ahead at the wall of his office. Four monitors stare back at him, arranged two-by-two with screens displaying only static, almost as if mocking him.

"Still doesn't feel real… even after all this time." Rubbing the sleep from his eyes, still red and irritated from staring at the monitors for so long, Booker glances around the tidy room, his daughter's handiwork no doubt. The setting sun bathed the room in rays of amber and crimson through the pair of west-facing windows looking out onto the city. His desk, a fine dark wood piece, had little cluttering its polished if slightly scuffed surface, aside from the three pictures he'd always kept there, as well as the blocky control panel for the monitors. A half-dozen dials, buttons and a display sat atop its surface, all well-worn from constant use, the labels long since faded away. Not that he needed them anymore; he knew the device's operations by heart.

The walls of his office remain mostly bare, just a few portraits and photographs given by friends along with his 7th Cavalry medals adorning their blue surface. A couch and a few plants sat near the monitors, touches Anna had insisted on long ago, as well as a mirror adjacent to the monitors so he'd see how wretched he looked whenever he got lost in his 'work'. Yet another concession he'd made to his daughter.

Staring into the mirror, he sees a man approaching fifty years; his brown hair sports more than its fair share of gray, his face carries the worry lines of one burdened with responsibility and an equal number from laughter of one blessed with a spirited daughter. He still wears his brown pin-striped suit and maroon tie from his time in office, a brown long coat hanging on the back of his chair.

And finally, as his gaze made a full circuit around the room, he spies the pair of flags in the far corner, nearly hidden in the glare and shadows cast by the setting sun; the flag of the United States of America, and the flag of Columbia.

He leans back in his chair, the well-worn wood creaking almost imperceptibly, thinking back to how this all started. After Wounded Knee and rejecting baptism, he's resolved to build a better future, a better home for everyone and anyone, the guilt over his actions at that massacre becoming the force that drove him on. Using the 'fame' garnered as a hero of Wounded Knee, he'd become a politician and climbed the political ladder in record time. He'd met his wife while campaigning, the only one he could ever be straight with once on this path.

Glancing at the photographs, Booker finds himself tearing up as he looks upon his dearly departed wife. He'd made certain she was interred in Columbia, in the place he'd shared his vision of with her, but she never got to see. Her final resting place is no more than ten minutes away, in a quiet cemetery overlooking the city, in the shade of a red oak. Tearing his gaze away, Booker returns his thoughts to the past, to lobbying for the creation of Columbia.

He'd described it as a home for all, a city founded on the ideals of equality, tolerance and liberty. He had to call in all the favors he'd accumulated, but he finally managed to push the bill through Congress. Despite his success, he only felt anger and bitterness when thinking of that time; he hated building his career on what was done at Wounded Knee, and even worse was that he's certain some of his support came from sympathy over his loss. The thought that Columbia came to be because he'd lost his wife, that his baby girl would never know her mother…

While he left the construction to city planners, industrialists and the scientist Rosalind Lutece, he'd travelled the country, approaching any he considered downtrodden and offering them a place in his city. His first stop was the Lakota Sioux reservation, the guilt he'd harbored since Wounded Knee demanding nothing less.

Booker still remembers conversing in their native tongue, glad that his heritage had prepared him for that moment, that his parents had insisted he learn the language. Columbia had become a beacon for the nation, in no small part due to the multicultural society the city fostered. The city wasn't a paradise, though he never truly thought such a thing possible; crime existed here as it did any major city, and though the well-trained police force could handle much, it was impossible to entirely stamp it out. Even so, he was proud of his city, his people, and was proud to raise Anna here.

A smile appears as Booker thinks of his daughter. She'd grown into a fine, lovely woman, despite being brought up by him alone; kind, compassionate, possessing an intelligent mind and a sharp wit. And, much to his chagrin, she could handle herself quite well in a scuffle. Her tomboyish personality through much of her childhood got her into quite a few scraps, that particular trait he was certain she'd inherited from him. She truly was a DeWitt, through and through.

These past few years he rarely got to see her, despite still living in the same house; she had become quite the socialite, and most of her time she spent at galas, meetings, and helping around the city. Her photo stares back at him, right next to her mother's, the camera managing to catch a twinkle in her eyes as she smiled. She still left her dark brown hair long and loose, only keeping a brush on her nightstand to care for it, though her preference for simplicity didn't carry over to her choice of dresses and makeup.

Most of Columbia's citizens believed she would be a shoo-in for a seat on the Council, following in his footsteps, but so far she'd resisted any suggestions to do so. She'd turned out as strong-willed as he, and truth be told he couldn't be happier that she wanted to find her own path. As he gazes at the pictures, his smile fades as he settles on the third and final photograph. He'd taken this one to commemorate a meeting no more than a couple months ago, he and a girl depicted behind the glass pane. A girl the very image of Anna, but her eyes look anything but joyous.

A year ago, Lutece had called him to her lab, shortly after his retirement party. She'd been refining her Trans-Dimensional Device and said she had something to show him, something she didn't want to burden him with while still on the Council. Through the Lutece Field, he saw another Columbia and the man who leads it: Prophet Zachary Comstock. She showed him other Columbias, then other Booker DeWitts. When she showed him the origin of those cities, a lump began to form in his throat.

He saw how the other Bookers struggled with their guilt over Wounded Knee, rejecting the baptism as he did. But instead of pushing past the guilt, the Bookers were trapped by it, spiraling into a pit of alcoholism and gambling debts. The only glimmer of similarity to his own life was in the woman he married and the daughter they bore. He had to look away when that Booker's wife passed at childbirth, unable to watch, only turning back when Rosalind had whispered that she was gone.

Rosalind showed him how Comstock took Anna from Booker, every time without fail. He saw the kind of place Comstock's Columbia became, a far cry from his peaceful city. Hate, prejudice, persecution, slavery, fanaticism… everything he'd rejected as evil. These Columbias, these Comstocks… they were anathema to him.

He watched how Anna would grow up to become Elizabeth; an idealistic girl locked in a tower and denied even the slightest human contact, her only companionship coming from a giant, monstrous bird creature, her warden more than anything else. Even with such an upbringing, he still saw so much of his Anna in the girl, aside from the physical similarities; her intelligence, her sense of humor, her slightly cocky grin when something seemed a bit off. He reeled as he learned who Comstock truly was. And that was when he realized; his world, his city and he himself, all are anomalies, exceptions rather than the rule. That he was the only Booker DeWitt to escape the cycle of exploitation, suffering and blood.

Lutece had shown him these worlds with her latest breakthrough, an advanced Lutece Device, the Trans-Dimensional Quantum Tunneling Array. At the time, she'd tried to explain how the device operated, but he was no scientist or other learned academic; most of her explanation received little more than a blank stare. Then she gave it to him in simple terms: this device could generate Lutece Fields with a degree of accuracy in any universe, though the accuracy degraded the more removed the target reality was.

She bequeathed it to him, and when he'd objected, she just shook her head; she was leaving Columbia in search of her other half, whom she still had not found. Before he knew it, she had the machine installed in his basement behind thick walls and solid security doors, images from the device's Lutece Fields fed directly to the monitors in his office. Tear technology is a closely guarded secret in Booker's Columbia, for fear of it being misused, and Rosalind made absolutely sure to teach him everything he needed to know about the device before destroying her research and disappearing. Her warning about never attempting a Tear to another Columbia still sticks with him.

With observing the multiverse at his fingertips, he'd begun his vigil. Knowing he was the only Booker to live happily with his daughter left him pained, something akin to survivor's guilt beginning to occupy his mind. So he would watch, watch as the Luteces brought other Bookers to Columbia, time and time again.

With each attempt, he kept track of what changed and what stayed the same, which elements of these nightmares existed in his own Columbia. Of all these constants, he noticed a certain figure who'd helped build Columbia in every instance; Jeremiah Fink, a weasel of a man he'd disliked since their first meeting. He and the Council kept Fink on a short leash, and now that he saw what this man had wrought in the other realities, Booker knew they'd made the right choice.

He watched each of their journeys, his heart soaring whenever he saw Booker reach Elizabeth, only to be crushed when he failed. It hurt him each time, seeing Booker fall and Elizabeth be taken, but those weren't the only painful moments. The realization of how cruel the world around her truly is, the loss of innocence when she was forced to kill the Vox Populi leader Daisy Fitzroy, the torture Comstock inflicted upon her, those especially tore at him.

Booker wanted to help, to intervene in some way, but couldn't take the risk; Lutece had explained that their world was apart enough so random Tears wouldn't reach it, but not so different as to be distinguishable, so long as no Tears were opened to any of these worlds. The machine wasn't designed to open Tears, but in theory it could, but that would only draw his world closer to these twisted reflections. He couldn't risk the people of his city being drawn into a conflict with the zealots and monsters of these Columbias, and above all else he couldn't risk his Anna. Who knows what Comstock would do if he saw her.

Finally, after so many attempts, one Booker was successful. He felt a grim smile pulling at the corner of his mouth as Booker got his hands on Comstock. He'd practically jumped out of his chair and cheered when they destroyed the Siphon, and had to search the multiverse again when Booker and Elizabeth disappeared from Columbia. He finally found them in a place he recalled all too well; the river and the baptism he'd fled from.

The joy he'd felt turned somber as he watched the Elizabeths take hold of Booker's arms, his other self quietly accepting his fate, sacrificing himself to save his daughter from ever being taken by Comstock. This Booker's final words stuck with him, something he'd feared of himself ever since he'd lain eyes on the various Bookers and Comstocks, "I'm both."

And then he saw the last Elizabeth fall to her knees in the gently flowing water, her shoulders shaking as she sobbed and screamed her guilt and sorrow, her tears joining with the river as it slowly carried her Booker away. His heart went out to her, Booker wanting to comfort her more than anything else in the world. But before he could call out to her, to strengthen the Lutece Field enough to speak to Elizabeth, she was gone.

He spent the next couple months searching the multiverse for her, seeing the Bookers and Annas reunited, and he remembers finally smiling for the first time since learning of them. Elizabeth had broken the cycle, and his vigil was nearly at an end. And what was her reward? He didn't know, but he could only imagine her alone, still grieving for her father, hurting for what she had to do.

Then he found her. She'd tracked down the last Comstock, another anomaly like him that wasn't born from the baptism. He looked on as she tried to stop Comstock, stop him from trying to take Anna as he fought with another Booker over her. He still remembers the strangled cry he'd loosed when the Tear closed around Anna's neck.

He'd fallen back in his chair, unable to tear his gaze from the monitors, watching that Booker wail as he held his daughter's corpse to his chest. Elizabeth had disappeared again, but this time he managed to find her, somehow; she lay on the cut stone of a lighthouse, amid a sea of lighthouses. She cried and moaned over losing Anna, he empathizing with their pain and grief, and her anger at Comstock. But more than for this Booker, he felt for Elizabeth; among her tears, he saw her clutching at her throat, pain twisting her beautiful face. He remembers how his jaw dropped as he realized that she'd felt what Anna had.

As he stumbled from his office that day, intent on putting as much distance between himself and the scene he'd left on the monitors, his mind settled on one simple fact; she was alone. He'd thought he and his world were alone in these infinite universes, none other like it in all the multiverse, but at least he had Anna and the people who live here. Elizabeth had nothing, no one and no place to call her own; she was truly alone in the infinite. He knew she could see all the doors, behind all the doors, and wondered if she ever saw him.

He got his answer the next day. He'd just taken his seat behind his desk when a Tear opened before him, Elizabeth stepping through and staring at him with hate in her eyes. She thought he was Comstock, this he was sure of, both of them silent as she approached. He had so many things he'd wanted to say to her, but as she stopped before his desk, he managed to stammer the only words that mattered.

"I'm not Comstock." Leaning back in his chair, he whispers the words he'd half-shouted months ago. The words had stopped Elizabeth in her tracks, the hand she was raising to either stab accusingly at him or open a Tear hanging there. He'd shown her the picture of Anna on his desk, asked her to look into his past to see the truth for herself.

As realization dawned on Elizabeth's face, all the anger and hatred left her, leaving behind only a worn out, traumatized and emotionally drained nineteen-year old girl. He would never forget how vulnerable she appeared; for all the power she wielded, all her sight, she was still a young woman who'd lost everything she'd held dear. He asked her to stay, to let him show her the city.

Elizabeth refused at first, but he insisted, saying a day wouldn't make much of a difference, that she looked tired and could use the rest. She didn't bat an eyelash when he called her by name, just wearily nodded her acceptance as he donned his brown long coat.

He showed her around his Columbia, taking her to all the sights as only he could. A chuckle escapes him as he recalls the murmurs of the citizens, seeing him with a girl who looked a younger Anna. They went to the streets and shops in Emporia, and to the Capital building at its heart. He enjoyed the surprise on her face when he introduced her to Councilwoman Fitzroy and Police Chief Slate, both of them in the know on Tears and both she'd encountered in the other worlds. In particular she lingered on Daisy, Booker certain she was remembering planting a pair of scissors in her back.

On the way out, he explained that Columbia was a semi-autonomous district of the United States, and was governed by a Council of elected officials. That he'd been called Founder DeWitt for creating the city, and that he was on the council until he retired last year. That there was no military here, no Prophet, no False Shepherd or Lamb. No insane cult or prophecy of Armageddon. No Handymen or Songbird, and no Vigors.

Booker walked with her throughout the city, Elizabeth seeing with her own eyes how different his Columbia was from Comstock's. The free communal housing and comforts for the poor, the influx of tourists arriving by airship from the lands below, and the peace and happiness all enjoyed here. Once Elizabeth had seen all that she cared to, he took her back home and introduced her to Anna.

Remembering how his daughter's face lit up when she saw Elizabeth, watching Anna with her younger self, Booker could easily see them as sisters, and hoped she'd taken some comfort in their meeting. But as he looked upon them, he knew otherwise; he saw the sadness in her eyes, and realized he'd only reminded her of everything she'd never had and everything she lost; a home, a family, a normal life, her father and only friend. To her, Columbia will always be a cage, a hell in which she only ever suffered, no matter how different his was from the one she'd grown up in.

As Elizabeth made to leave, Anna had insisted she get some rest and spirited her away, Booker following only to find the door to his daughter's bedroom ajar. Despite her protests, Elizabeth fell fast asleep as Anna tucked her in, his daughter staying by her side as she sang softly to her 'sister'.

Through his vigil, Anna had learned what had become of her other selves, had felt the pain he did as they saw the fate awaiting the girls. She'd told him that she had nightmares, of herself in Elizabeth's place, how much she felt for her. And now that she was here, Booker saw that Anna had every intention of comforting the younger woman. He left Elizabeth in Anna's care, returning to his office until their young visitor awoke several hours later.

At the end of the day, they stood atop Monument Lighthouse, watching the sun dip below the horizon. He'd chuckled when she muttered 'always a lighthouse, always a man, and always a city', explaining the lighthouse was a beacon in a storm for anyone who wished safe harbor here, and as such symbolized this Columbia. The lighthouse doubled as the Visitor's Center, originally where rockets carrying immigrants had landed, though now that airships made the journey instead it had fallen out of use.

Booker feels fresh tears forming as he remembers the look on her face when he spoke next, "I know I'm not your Booker, but Anna and I still care for you. You'll always be welcome. You can stay if you want, there will always be a place for you here." Even as he said the words, he knew she would never come back; Columbia would always be a reminder of a painful part of her life, as was he of what she had lost.

Knowing he'd never see her again, he'd insisted they at least take a picture together, the same picture that now sat on his desk right beside Anna's. They'd taken it right then and there, the light of the setting sun bathing her in its radiance, contrasting the depths of her blue eyes and the weariness within. As she opened a Tear to leave, he'd called out to her, letting her know that he'd check in on her.

She turned to him before stepping through, a small smile appearing on her lips as she mouthed the words, "I know." Watching her leave, he could only imagine that this must be like losing a daughter, that this must be what those other Bookers felt. After witnessing her suffering, he just wanted to keep her warm and safe. He had no idea how wrong he was.

He'd continued his vigil, watching over her as she arrived in Rapture. He also began searching for the other Booker, the other him that had lost his daughter, but all he found was an abandoned office, an empty noose hanging from the fan.

Anna would join him on occasion after Elizabeth had left, disappointed that she hadn't gotten the chance to know her better or to say goodbye. Together, they watched her arrive in Rapture, and worked both to fit in and prepare for her confrontation with Comstock. They watched as she performed a song to the satisfaction of some insane artist, both feeling the sorrow she'd poured into her music. Then something changed. Sobbing on her bed, a Tear opened, enveloping her and throwing the Lutece device for a loop. When it finally stabilized, his breath caught in his throat; another Booker sat on her bed, stroking her hair and humming. He remembers Anna slowly rising, a smile appearing.

The Tear closed as suddenly as it opened, drawing the other Booker away, both he and Anna sharing a sigh of relief; Elizabeth had picked herself up from the bed, a smile on her face, the sorrow tempered by what he thought looked like hope.

But the relief didn't last. She'd returned to Rapture after killing Comstock, and had lost much of what she was. Just a normal girl with a normal finger, alone in a city filled with psychopaths and monsters. Somehow he knew she wouldn't remember him, but the hurt of that realization paled when her journey suddenly came to an end. Ended by a monster with a wrench. Now he truly knew the pain the other Bookers experienced as he watched her pass, the smile that appeared as she died breaking his heart.

That was a week ago. Anna had found him mumbling while asleep at his desk, piecing together what had happened from his unconscious ramblings, and now spent every day with him since. She'd liked Elizabeth, and shed tears of her own for the girl she never really got the chance to know. Both mourned her in his office, for the girl who never got to go home, never had a chance to live her own life.

Hesitantly, he reaches for the controls, the hiss of the static fading away. Though his vigil was over, nothing more to be done or seen, he just couldn't bring himself to turn off the device for good. Each screen flickered, static giving way to show Elizabeth's corpse, Booker shuddering as he lays eyes on her. A trio of melted candles lay nearby, a rose placed in her hand. He wonders if any of the other Bookers sensed what was lost, knew how much of their happiness was owed to this poor girl who died alone and forgotten. Checking the controls, he sees that only a couple of hours had passed in Rapture.

And then he appears. A Booker hobbles up to Elizabeth's corpse, falling to his knees before her.

"Wh-what? How?"

Lurching forward in his seat, he stares in disbelief as this Booker cries his heart out for her, cradling her in his arms, he watching as the Little Sisters and Big Daddy return. Booker watches the exchange between his other self and the Little Sister Sally, between him and the Big Daddy, and finally as this Booker steps into another Tear.

"Go... go!"

"Father? What's the matter?"

He barely hears Anna's voice or her stepping into the office, rising slowly as he watches Booker tear into the monster and his men. Both he and Anna hold their breath as they watch Booker struggle with Atlas, despite the broken arm and the injuries they can plainly see. And they finally cheer as Elizabeth embraces her Booker, father and daughter doing the same as their other selves work their way out of Rapture, the male Lutece guiding them.

He finds himself smiling, the first genuinely happy moment he'd allowed himself since Elizabeth had come to his city as she and her Booker step through a final Tear, leaving Rapture and all the monsters within for good. And now, they are going home.

Stepping from behind his desk, switching the monitors off as he goes, Booker retrieves a bottle of brandy and a pair of tumblers from a drawer. Glancing out the window, Booker chuckles; midnight had long since passed, feeling the early hours of the morning in his bones, but he felt better than he had this past year. The vigil is over, all is right with the world. Pouring two helpings of brandy, Booker hands a glass to Anna before raising his to the full moon, his daughter joining him.

"For Elizabeth and Booker, father?" Anna raises her glass to his, the clink of the tumblers tapping against each other ringing in the silent night.

"Yeah. Wherever you are, Elizabeth, I'm glad you're home."

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**Closing words: Hi there, I hope you enjoyed this little idea I had. After Burial at Sea episode 1, I had a thought: if the Comstock we saw there wasn't invalidated by Booker's sacrifice in Infinite, he must have been born without the baptism. An anomaly, as I stated. If so, couldn't there be a single Booker who went on to build Columbia, while staying true to himself?**

**This is the first side story I've written to flesh out the story around Unbroken, and in this case to fill in a bit of the gap between the end of Infinite and when Elizabeth went to Rapture. Thank you for reading.**


	2. Anna's Watch

**Hi there! I've had this idea for a while, but I had to wait until I got to a certain point in Change of Heart (that took a lot longer than I expected), as well as until I got to Elizabeth visiting her mother in I'm Home.**

* * *

October 9, 1920

Her bedroom door opens with a barely audible creak, and she slips out into the dimly lit hallway without a sound. There shouldn't be anyone up at this early of an hour, but still she creeps down the hallway of her own home like a thief in the night, going barefoot so as to not make a sound on the polished wooden floor. Not that it'd be all that difficult to go unseen; what little light makes it through the heavy curtains barely serves to illuminate her surroundings, doing little more than painting the house she'd lived in since a child in ghostly grays. She'd made certain to draw the curtains before retiring to bed the night before, the last thing she needs is her father waking early or some unwanted visitor to come knocking on the door.

Anna DeWitt stops at her father's bedroom, carefully cracking the solid oak door open just enough to peer inside. While the hallway is dim, her eyes still take a moment to adjust in the near total darkness of the bedroom, but the rhythmic inspiration and exhalation of her sleeping father brings a smile to Anna's lips. Booker DeWitt sleeps peacefully for the first time in at least a year, last night's events finally giving him the peace of mind she'd long hoped he'd find. They did, however, wear him out in both mind and body.

Easing the door shut, Anna allows herself a quiet chuckle, "Sleep well, father. You had a long night." Returning to her bedroom just as quietly as she left, Anna quickly pulls on the ensemble she'd laid out on her bed: a deep blue, long-sleeved blouse and white skirt with dark blue hem that falls to just past her knees, both pieces from her rather small assortment of 'casual' wear; a warm, pinstriped black coat, which she'd had for years because it reminded Anna of her father, when he was a young man; and a red neckerchief, something to keep her warm along with the coat. Columbia gets chilly this time of year, and she has something very important to see to.

"Alright…" Anna rises from her bed once she's laced up her boots, stepping out the door quietly and only stopping to listen in on her father once more. All she hears is the sound of his breathing, Anna grinning as she steps away and makes a beeline for the front door.

* * *

"Good morning, mother…"

The gray of early morning had lightened some, but still cast the cemetery in washed out colors, even the red oak that shades her mother's grave looking old and tired. The oak has stood beside her mother's resting place for as long as Anna can remember. As a child, she'd thought it watched over her mother, and Anna can't help but grin as she remembers.

Anna never knew her mother, but whenever she was sad or something important happened in her life, she'd always come to speak with her. And she'd had more than a fair number of reasons to come these past few months.

"I know, I've been coming too often, but I have to tell you something… something incredible. Mother, it's about Elizabeth… the other 'me'. Remember? Elizabeth… Elizabeth's alive, mother. She's safe and sound, and she's finally home."

Anna had come to speak to her mother after Elizabeth had left, over three months ago. A bittersweet smile touches Anna's lips as she remembers talking to the cold headstone bearing her mother's name; she'd felt silly doing so, but her father did the very same thing on occasion, and she knew he talked about Elizabeth. Somehow, telling her mother about the girl who could have very well been her younger sister had made Anna feel better.

Kneeling before the grave, Anna carefully reads the inscription out loud as she always does, "Annabelle DeWitt, beloved wife and mother." A simple, unassuming grave, but one that received scores of visitors each year, citizens who wanted to pay respects to their Founder's dearly departed wife. As she finishes reading, Anna places a pair of roses before the grave. One from her, and the other in Elizabeth's place; somehow, she felt it proper to do so.

"Her father… incredibly, he came for her. Booker went back through a Tear and saved her from the bastard who'd killed her, and he brought her home." Tears gather at the corner of Anna's eyes, leaving warmth as they roll down her cheeks. Sniffling as she wipes them away, Anna brushes a loose strand of her long brown hair from her eyes, "After… after watching her die once, father's so happy for her now that she's home. And I'm so happy for her, so much that it hurts…"

She'd come here a week ago, after her father had told her that Elizabeth had been murdered. After watching all her other selves suffer and then meeting her in person, Anna had been so relieved that at least this one last Elizabeth had escaped and lived on. But she'd cried herself to sleep that night, and still found she had tears to shed in the morning as she spoke to her mother about the girl she thought of as her sister. A sister killed by a wrench wielding maniac, all for the sake of a little girl she hardly knew.

"I wish… I wish I could see her again, talk to her… but father said she wouldn't remember us, or her time here. That Columbia would always a wound on her soul, no matter how different father's city is. I… I wish you could've met her, too. She never knew her mother, either, and only now has the chance to know her father…"

"Oh, is that Miss Anna I spy? Why, it is! What, may I ask, are you doing here, fair lady?"

Anna bolts upright, bristling as she hears the voice of someone she and her father find reprehensible, one of the few citizens of Columbia they actively dislike, "None of your concern, Fink."

"Oh, come now, dear lady, call me Jeremiah." Fink makes his way among the gravestones with seeming little regard for them, winding around the last and starting up the hill where Anna kneels. She turns and rises even as she conceals her dislike of the man with practiced ease.

"Mr. Fink," Anna replies, keeping her voice calm and neutral, if a bit cold, "I do not believe it proper to speak so casually to one another. If you insist on being so uncouth, I shall take my leave of you now." She starts down the hill, wanting to keep Fink as far from her mother's resting place as possible. Before she does, though, Anna turns back to the grave and places a hand to her chest, "Goodbye, mother."

"Oh, no, of course, Miss DeWitt!" Her words stops Fink cold, the man removing his top hat and bowing courteously, "I meant no offense, of course." He looks up at her, and grins from behind his slicked mustache, "May I ask as to your father's wellbeing?"

"My father is doing well, Mr. Fink." She nods politely, stepping past Fink even as a shudder runs down her spine. This man has been trying to ingratiate himself to her father ever since the day Columbia was built, but DeWitts know a snake when they see one. While he's not the tycoon he is in the other Columbia's, Fink seems determined to become just that, and neither they nor the Council would let the man become as his mirrors had. "Thank you for asking. I shall be returning home now."

"Oh, then do let me escort you, my dear lady!" Fink turns and strolls alongside her, smoothing his tailored suit with one hand while the other grips an ivory walking cane, "I do so enjoy our little chats, don't you, Ms. DeWitt?"

"They're to die for…" Anna quips back, trying to keep the rising irritation from her voice as this weasel of a man keeps pestering her; she has something important waiting for her back home, and if Fink thinks he's stepping into her father's house, he's got another thing coming. "What brings you to this cemetery? Surely, you came to pay respects to someone…"

"Oh, not at all. I simply noticed you from the street; it's rather difficult to miss a beauty such as yourself, even among such… dreary surroundings. It is a lovely view from that hill though, isn't it, Ms. DeWitt?" Another smile appears as Fink praises her while making small talk, even as Anna bristles again at his casual disregard for her mother's resting place. She grits her teeth as her temper rises; she is Booker DeWitt's daughter through and through, and she'd fought as much as the boys did when she was growing up. And right now, punching Fink right in his smug face is becoming more and more appealing with each passing moment.

"Fink!" A loud, gravelly voice barks from the street, Fink cringing as Anna breathes a sigh, thankful for the reprieve. "Leave Miss Anna be, you bloodsucking parasite!"

"C-Captain Slate!" Fink stops dead in his tracks as he stammers, and Anna picks up her pace as Cornelius Slate glares at Jeremiah Fink, "I-I was simply having a pleasant chat with Ms. DeWitt! T-tell him, Miss Anna!" Anna glares back at Fink, only barely managing to conceal the contempt she holds for the man as she slips away.

"Looks like you were harassing the poor girl! And it's 'Police Chief' Slate to you, Fink!" Slate's one eye turns to Anna as she steps out of the small cemetery, his gaze and voice softening considerably, "You alright, young miss?"

"Perfectly, now that I'm away from him." Anna smiles, her voice low and her back to Fink. Cornelius Slate, veteran of Wounded Knee, the Spanish-American War and the Boxer Rebellion, who'd come to her father after losing his eye and being discharged from the Army. The old warhorse, as her father called him, and she'd witnessed their reunion and the fight that came after.

Glancing back at Fink, Anna raises her voice, "I will take my leave of you now. Good day, Mr. Fink. Captain Slate, will you escort me home?" She's glad that Fink fears Slate, all his honeyed words having little effect on the tough as nails officer.

"Certainly, young miss." She grins again as they leave Fink sputtering behind, both at the horrid man's disbelief and of the nickname Slate insists on calling her. It'd come about after the fight between her father and Slate, the two of them huffing and wheezing, battered and bruised from the altercation. He took notice of her, she still a child then and hiding behind the doorframe. That was when he'd first called her 'young miss', and that had gotten both her father and Slate laughing. Their relationship was much improved after that.

"May I ask what brings you here so early, Anna?"

Slate's voice interrupts Anna's recollection, and she shakes her head to clear the memories, her long brown hair swaying in the cold breeze as she does, "I came to tell my mother about Elizabeth." Though not in uniform and leaning on a walking stick of his own, Police Chief Cornelius 'Captain' Slate still exudes an air of authority. Anna knows her father isn't proud of his time in the 7th Cavalry, but Slate at least has the sense not to discuss it anymore.

"Ah… the young lady Booker introduced to Daisy and I at City Hall. How is she? And how are you and your father doing?"

"We… we're doing much better now, thank you." Peering back at Captain Slate, Anna hesitates, unsure how much she should say. Cornelius Slate knows of Tears, but not of the other Columbias, Elizabeths, or Comstock. And now that they should be gone, neither should he know. "And Elizabeth's doing better than ever. She's gone home."

"That's good to hear!" He heartily claps her on the back as he laughs, Anna smiling despite the sudden ache in her shoulder, "Well then, shall we get you home? If Booker wakes to find you missing, he's like to get himself wound up with worry."

She manages another polite smile, "I'm sorry, Captain, but I've still important matters to see to. Thank you for saving me from Fink, but I'll make my own way home."

* * *

The sun had just crept above the horizon when Anna returns home, slipping quiet as a shadow through her own home. Once more, she quietly checks on her father, a furtive smile appearing as she finds him still fast asleep and undisturbed. Breathing a quiet sigh, Anna backs away as she eases the door shut; she'd taken longer than she'd hoped in making sure none would disturb her or her father's 'much needed rest'.

Finally, Anna steps into the room her father had spent most of his time this past year in, tossing her coat on the back of the office chair and smoothing her blouse and skirt before taking a seat. "Alright, it's time…" But Anna hesitates, even with the controls of the device at her fingertips; she'd learned how to operate the device by watching her father, but she wasn't completely proficient with it, either. Some of the knobs were still mysteries to her.

"You've come this far, Anna." Learning back in her father's chair, Anna mutters quietly as she stares at herself in the mirror, the same one she'd insisted on hanging beside the monitors. A smile creeps onto her face as Anna looks herself over; she's wearing the same outfit as when she had first met Elizabeth, one reminiscent of what the younger woman had worn at the start of her journey. Somehow, this bolsters her confidence, and Anna sits up and reaches for the controls.

"Alright… where are you, Elizabeth?" The monitors hum to life as Anna begins manipulating the knobs and dials. Operating the device, Anna can't help but remember watching her father doing the same as images flicker on the screens, learning by watching with him none the wiser. A triumphant smile spreads across her face as she finds what she seeks.

The screens stop flickering between different images of the New York office of Booker DeWitt to settle on one specific reality, the image of a small apartment no different than the one she spent her first years in displayed on each of the four monitors. Not that Anna can remember those years as an infant.

Elizabeth stands behind a desk looking out a window, carrying this world's baby Anna as the child sobs into her chest. Anna finds herself smiling as Elizabeth sings to her baby sister, but the tune brings tears to her eyes; Anna remembers Elizabeth performing this song in Rapture, and the sorrow she'd evoked with each and every note. Watching her younger 'sister' sobbing herself to sleep on her bed in Rapture had left Anna crying to herself, and the memory never fails to draw tears.

_"Just remember… till you're home aaaga-in… you belong… to mee…"_

Anna winces as her voice cracks, unable to reach the same heights as Elizabeth. While they certainly have the same aptitude, she just hasn't the practice that Elizabeth has, Anna's singing more of a hobby than a passion. And it wasn't just her singing that differentiated her from Elizabeth; she couldn't paint quite as well as Elizabeth, and she has zero experience with picking locks and code breaking. Why would she? Still, she manages a smile as she watches baby Anna calm down, Elizabeth's singing soothing the upset child, "Like you said, sister; constants and variables."

Sitting back in her father's chair as she watches Elizabeth with her little sister, Anna's smile shrinks down to a small grin when Elizabeth's Booker steps into the apartment. Though she's happy to see Elizabeth safe and sound, the simple fact is that Anna misses Elizabeth; she'd love a chance to talk with her again, and that she can't turns the happiness into something bittersweet. But there's something else bothering her… a strange sense of unease. Looking upon the family, nearly identical to her own except for Elizabeth's presence, Anna can't help but feel like she's looking into a distorted mirror.

"A mirror… that sounds about right, doesn't it?" Staring at the young woman who's in one sense her nearly perfect reflection, and in another something completely different, Anna tries to shake the eerie sense of something akin to déjà vu. And not just Elizabeth; this Booker looks every bit the man she remembers her father as from her childhood, but is just as different from him as Elizabeth is from her.

"Anna?" She jumps, unsure for a moment if the Booker that'd just appeared onscreen had spoken the words, or her own father from out in the hall. "Anna? Where are you?" Anna's on her feet in an instant, leaving the device behind as she hurries to the office door, and her breath nearly catches in her throat; her father makes his way down the hall, still groggy from sleep and headed for her bedroom.

"Uh… here, father!" Easing the door shut behind her, Anna calls out as she starts down the hallway. Her father turns about slowly, a smile tugging at his features as he lays eyes on her, and Anna can't help but think of the younger man she'd just seen on the monitors. They were the same in nearly every respect, her father and Elizabeth's, but at the same time their lives are and never will be alike.

"Anna… what're you doing up so early? And…" rubbing at his bleary eyes, Anna's father looks her up and down as he trudges towards her, "Anna, what were you doing in my office?"

"Cleaning, father. You know how much of a mess you can leave behind, and I thought it a nice gesture." Anna shakes her head, chuckling lightly even as she lies through her teeth.

"Cleaning… Anna… then why do I see grass on your boots, Anna?" Even as sleepy as he appears, her father manages to give her a knowing look.

Anna stops just as she comes within arm's reach of her father, her gaze slowly dropping from his weathered features to stare down at her feet. Blades of grass do indeed cling to her brown leather boots and stick out of the laces, and Anna heaves a disappointed sigh as she silently chides herself; this morning was not going as she'd hoped, even if her father had woken up hours earlier than she'd expected.

"I… I went out. I wanted to…" Anna frowns, disappointed to have been found out so soon, "I went to see mother." A bittersweet smile finds its way onto her face; the somber mood of the visit, the unpleasant intrusion of Fink and being leaving her feeling down, "I wanted to tell her, about Elizabeth. About… everything since she died."

"Oh… I was fixing to do just that." A disappointed look flashes across her father's face as he scratches the back of his head, and Anna can't help but wonder if she should've waited. But then her father shakes his head, looking her in the eye with a small smile tugging at his features, "You want to come with me later? We can tell her properly about Elizabeth, if you like."

"Y-yes! I've still a few things to tell mother, myself…" Anna brings her gaze back up to meet her father's as he chuckles. "And… once you've woken up properly, there's something I've been meaning to ask you…"

"You want to check in on Elizabeth. I figured that the moment you hurried me off to bed." Booker puts a hand on Anna's shoulder, leading her back to his office at the end of the hall, "You know, Anna, you're really no good at lying." He chuckles again as Anna groans, she blushing at being found out, "I'm not complaining, mind you. I know you care for Elizabeth, but she only spoke false when needed."

Father and daughter step back into the office in time to see the other Booker dump a pile of croissants onto a plate before Elizabeth. "They look happy." Anna lifts her head to stare at the monitors, the smile on Elizabeth and Booker's faces bringing out a grin of her own. "Anna, I know how much you care for Elizabeth. But their lives aren't our own… we can't…"

"Yes, I know." Turning to stare up at her father, Anna can't help but think 'that's another constant'; she's no taller than Elizabeth, and still has to crane her neck to look up at her father when he stands close like this. "I know she won't remember us. I know it's not our place to interfere with them. I know all that, but still… I want to at least watch over her!"

"Alright, alright…" Her father holds up his hands to stay her, and Anna takes a deep breath as her father continues, "You don't have to say anything else, I agree with you. I just… don't want this thing running all the time. If I wasn't so inclined, I'd have the thing dismantled."

"Really?" A smile brightens Anna's expression as her father nods, he wearing a weary smile of his own; he still looks like he needs more sleep, whatever it was that woke him most certainly not him being fully rested. "Can I…" she stops, taking a breath to compose herself and wiping the smile from her face, "I'd like to look for the others… maybe those peculiar Luteces and the girl she saved?"

"Sure." With that, Anna and her father turn to the monitors again, she returning to the chair and he moving to stand beside his desk. The other DeWitt family isn't doing anything out of place, or even anything especially interesting, but Anna feels a grin coming on as she watches Elizabeth nibble at a croissant. Quickly reaching for the controls, Anna directs the other monitors towards the Little Sister Elizabeth saved, and towards Robert and Rosalind Lutece.

But then Elizabeth shudders and swivels her chair around, and Anna finds she's staring directly back at her younger self through the monitor. Her jaw drops as Elizabeth's inquisitive gaze seems to stare into her soul, as if she's searching for something but not finding it. She vaguely notices her father stepping towards the monitors, and that Elizabeth whispers a few words that are lost to her.

"What the hell is going on?" As if she'd heard Anna's father, Elizabeth slowly turns back to her Booker DeWitt, and Anna slumps in her chair. That searching gaze of Elizabeth's felt like it reached across the worlds to pin Anna where she sat. She shudders and stands quickly, trying to shake the feeling.

"I… I don't know…" Stepping quietly from behind the desk, Anna stares at the controls as her father looks her way, "Maybe… maybe I set the device wrong?"

"No, it looks fine." Her father glances at the console before shaking his head, "Can't imagine that was a coincidence… if only our Rosalind were still here..."

"Wait… what?" Anna barely hears her father, instead staring at the other monitors; she hadn't found the Little Sister or Robert Lutece yet, but the scene on the last monitor shows Rosalind Lutece in a dark room, with a young woman in the colors of a Vox Populi soldier standing before a Tear. A Tear showing the exact same scene she'd just witnessed, closing quickly as Rosalind waves it away. "That's… why is she still in that Columbia, and with the Vox Populi?"

Booker remains silent as they peer at the monitors, the young woman speaking to Rosalind quietly enough that they can't make out the conversation. Shortly after, Rosalind disappears entirely, and Anna turns back to the desk and controls yet again to try and follow. The device has had trouble in the past following the Luteces or Elizabeth into the strange space between worlds, but somehow, the screen materializes an image of Rosalind Lutece standing outside a lighthouse and looking out onto the sea.

"Lighthouses…" Moving from the desk to stand by her father, Anna puts Rosalind Lutece from her mind as she turns her attention back to the image of Booker and Elizabeth, only the father still sitting at the dining table; Elizabeth hugs a pair of outfits in her arms, a smile lighting up her expression as she runs to the other room. But Elizabeth stops at the door to say something more, and Anna touches the screen even as a smile touches her lips, "I'll always be here, sister. And I'll check in you from time to time…"

"Ahem." A voice catches both Anna and her father by surprise, both turning their gaze to the other monitor as Rosalind turns to face them both. Neither respond, and wouldn't even if they wanted to; the connection was set up to receive images and sound from the Lutece Fields the Array generated, but who knows how far the Luteces' peculiar perception extended?

"Who are you?"

* * *

**Author's Note: Like I said above, I've wanted to do a chapter from Anna's perspective for a while now. Hopefully, this was a nice break from what I've been writing lately, and I enjoyed writing it. Whether or not there'll be another chapter, though, is anyone's guess; this was originally a one-shot, yet I keep getting ideas for stories I've finished. Anyway, I hope you enjoy the chapter, and as usual I welcome any and all feedback**


	3. From the Infinite

**Note: This note might be a little late, but the previous chapter took place in parallel with I'm Home chapter 3 and Change of Heart chapter 6, and this chapter similarly takes place when I'm Home chapter 5 did. **

* * *

October 14, 1920

Clasping his hands behind his head and leaning back in his plush seat, Booker DeWitt takes a deep breath before releasing it in a long, exasperated sigh. "How long are those two going to be in there?"

"Who can say, father?" Booker glances over at Anna as she replies, his daughter sitting beside him in the posh carriage and staring out the open window, resting her chin on her hand. "I suspect it's something like a homecoming for them."

"I'd wager you're right." Gazing across the dark, empty street in Emporia and at the brightly lit windows of the buildings lining the road, Booker focuses on the remnants of the construction work that'd become so commonplace around Columbia. The first automobile factory in Columbia had opened its doors not too long ago, and with the influx of motorized vehicles, so too did the streets in several parts of the city need to be widened.

Booker groans quietly; he never enjoyed going to formal functions like this, but he'd had little choice with their 'guests'. Turning his attention to the sign overhead reading 'Lutece Laboratory', Booker wonders just what the twins mean by coming here. "At least they can't just pop in as easily as they normally can…"

After Rosalind Lutece had noticed their observation, he'd cut the power to the device in hopes that she hadn't discovered them. But then she'd appeared in his home the very next day, a touch of curiosity on her features and scaring the hell out of the maid. The unflappable Rosalind even looked mildly surprised when he and Anna had rushed over and again when they'd explained where she was.

"Something about our world makes it difficult for them to come and go as they do…" Muttering to himself as he peers through the open doors of the Lutece Lab, Booker shakes his head; Rosalind's hypothesis more or less went over his head, but that much he'd understood. Lutece had left shortly after she'd arrived, but had returned today with her brother in tow. "And then they started talking…"

"That seems a constant, doesn't it?"

"Huh?" Turning back to his daughter, Booker catches the playful grin teasing at her ruby red lips, "What does?"

"Your reaction to the Luteces' manner of speaking." Anna chuckles, grinning openly now, "Or is your annoyance at having agreed to come tonight?"

"Both, not sure which is worse. We spent most of the day showing them around the city… wonder how they managed not getting noticed..." Scratching at his graying hair, Booker lets his arms drop to his sides as he shakes his head; he'd seen enough of the Luteces' antics during his vigil to realize that trying to understand them is an exercise in futility. "Don't see why they fancied coming to a reception for some visiting dignitary… wherever he's from."

"They, father. From the French and British embassies, remember?" Chuckling again as she corrects him, Anna runs a hand down the side of her dress, smoothing it out after sitting for so long. The dress she'd picked out is a long, glossy red satin piece, sleeveless and with a thankfully modest neckline, though it shows off a little too much of her back for Booker's peace of mind.

"What is it with the beads these days, anyway?"

"You don't like them, father?" Running a finger from her right shoulder and down her side, Anna traces several lines of beads that catch what little light there is, "It could be worse; some ladies like dresses covered in beads, and in their hair, too."

"It seems we're interrupting something." Robert Lutece's voice cuts off Booker's retort, the redheaded scientist opening the carriage door for his sister.

"Hmm, indeed." Climbing in and taking her seat opposite Anna, Rosalind gazes at the DeWitts. "It is quite fascinating, how like and dislike your Columbia is from those we've known."

"I'll take that as a compliment…" Glancing at his daughter again, Booker heaves a quiet sigh.

"What I find fascinating, sister, is the similarities our hosts share with Elizabeth and her father." Robert goes on, either missing or ignoring Booker's words, "Yet here we are, in Columbia."

"Breathe, father. You don't want to ruffle your jacket before we get there." Feeling a hand on his shoulder, Booker nods as the carriage pulls away from the Lutece Lab. Anna's right, of course; he'd dug up an old dinner jacket and trousers for the event, despite his distaste for formal wear, and since he's already going, might as well look the part.

"This is going to be a long night."

* * *

"F-Founder?!" Booker grimaces as the tuxedo-clad doorman nearly shouts in surprise, "No one informed us you'd be in attendance tonight. Allow me-"

"Listen son, I don't want a big fuss tonight. So move." Stepping past the young man with Anna and the Luteces, Booker glances back as he mutters quietly, "The younger generation all call me 'Founder' these days… it's Booker, dammit."

"So long as they aren't calling you Prophet, I think you'll manage." Stepping through the white and gold double doors, Anna smiles innocently as Booker scowls. "Put your smile on, father, it won't do to look aggravated."

Stepping into the ballroom, Booker forces his best smile as a not insubstantial portion of the room turns their attention towards him and Anna. And then more. And even more. "Ah, hell…"

The sea of black jacketed, white vested men and colorful, beaded-dress wearing women start to murmur; the socialites here would've certainly expected Anna to be in attendance tonight, but Booker makes it a point to never come to events like this. Sweeping his gaze around the room, Booker spies an empty table, six seats in all, "Perhaps we should take a seat…"

"Booker!" A familiar, gravelly voice breaks the tension, and Booker breathes a sigh of relief as his old friend Slate stands and makes his way through the sea of seated people, "And the young miss! Glad to see the two of you, been damn near bored to tears! And… Lutece?"

"That I am." Rosalind nods and raises a hand towards her twin, "And this is my brother, Robert."

"Good to meet you…" Glancing at Booker and Anna before back to Rosalind and Robert, Slate scratches his bald head, "I though you disappeared?"

"A simple if fortunate accident. Needless to say, I have returned, if only for a time." Rosalind nods, her tone still disinterested, if cordial.

"Oh. Well… welcome back, I suppose." Turning back to Booker, Slate claps him on the back, "We need to have a drink together before you leave, Booker! Don't run out on me now."

The night goes on like that for the next hour or so, the DeWitts' and the Luteces' presence drawing a fair share of attention. But it's Anna who ends up answering most of the questions; she's the social butterfly, and manages to take the uncomfortable focus from her reluctant father and the peculiar twins. Aside from greeting the dignitaries, half of whom he can barely understand, the Founder of Columbia barely has to socialize at all.

As the night wears on, Booker finds himself alone with the Luteces, Anna off speaking to one of the dignitaries. And both are looking at Booker, as if studying him. "What?"

"We've been considering a handful of peculiarities." Straightening his jacket, Robert rises from his chair to stand behind Rosalind.

"Such as why the girl never told us of this world." Now it's Rosalind's turn, the female Lutece not giving him a moment to respond, "Or why the two of you are peering into the other worlds."

""I suspect she never said anything because it was too painful; seeing a mirror of her own life, seeing a life that could have been hers in a manner of speaking, perhaps she simply didn't want to think of it." Robert muses as he turns his attention to his sister.

"I imagine that's the case." A sigh escapes Booker as he interrupts the Luteces before they really get started, the thought of Elizabeth's reaction to his city still weighing on him, "But we were watching because we care for Elizabeth. We've seen what happened to her in Columbia and Rapture." Booker silently hopes he can keep the 'how' out of it and focus on the 'why', "Isn't that why you're watching over them as well?"

The twins look at each other, Rosalind having to shift in her seat to do so. When they turn back to him, Robert nods slowly, "I suppose one could say that of myself, but-"

"Ah, DeWitt!" Booker jerks around only to see the smiling face of Jeremiah Fink, the man already taking the seat vacated by Anna. "I've been meaning to speak with you for quite some time now, and I've got such an opportunity as you can't even imagine!"

"Not now, Fi-"

"Oh, come now, Founder! The nations around the world are in turmoil after that little war, don't you think it's high time to-"

"I said," he grits his teeth as Fink yammers on, the snake proposing a joint venture of some sort, and Booker's temper is running short, "not now, Fink!"

"He seems the same as ever." Rosalind's voice draws Booker's attention away for a moment, though Fink seems to have missed it.

"Indeed. I'd imagine it's for the best that his influence is limited." Answering quietly, Robert turns his gaze to Fink.

"I suppose he might be a constant, though his success a variable. I'd like to see how he'd fare in Rapture."

"Hmm? Madam Lutece, might I inquire as to your meaning?" Fink finally turns his attention to the Luteces, giving Booker a short reprieve, "There is much I'd like to discuss with you, as well. But what is this 'Rapture' you speak of?"

"Mr. Fink." A chuckle escapes Booker as he hears his daughter's voice, Anna clamping a hand on Fink's shoulder and causing the weasel to wince for a moment. She's a DeWitt alright; when she was a child, he'd made sure that if Anna was fighting, she was winning. "I was just discussing with Councilwoman Fitzroy here how she should perhaps propose to extend that last sanction on your holdings. You recall, yes? The labor abuse debacle? There's a reason there isn't a Pinkerton office in Columbia." She smiles sweetly, but the veiled threat is plain to see.

"Ah…" Glancing up at Anna and Daisy, Fink visibly gulps before rising from the chair, "I, ah… seem to be in your seat, Ms. DeWitt. I'll be taking my leave now." He doesn't say a word as he disappears into the crowds, and Booker can only grin as Anna and Daisy share a laugh.

"So, Fink trying to worm his way into your good graces again, Booker?" Dropping into a seat opposite Booker, Daisy runs a hand through her black hair, brushing a simple-looking headband that matches her loose, light blue dress.

"Just like always, Daisy. How's the Council these days?"

"Same as always, of course. Lots of debating, occasionally we get something done. So," Daisy turns to the Luteces, interlacing her fingers before her, "how's Elizabeth faring?"

"Right to the point." Thinking to himself as the Luteces glance at each other in what he can only assume is surprise, Booker recalls his first meeting with Daisy Fitzroy. She'd been a worker in Fink's factory, and had formed a union to confront Fink's less-than-fair business practices; in particular, they'd opposed Fink's summary terminations, intimidation tactics, and negligible pay. It'd damn near turned violent by the time he'd arranged a meeting with her and Fink.

"Ah, that's good to hear. A nice girl like that deserves to be happy after all she's been through." Daisy's accent pulls Booker's attention back to the present. Daisy, unlike Slate, knows all about the other Columbias, including the Luteces and her other selves. Watching as Daisy, Anna and the Luteces chat about Elizabeth, Booker keeps quiet as he wonders at Robert and Rosalind's reaction to Fitzroy.

"Well… it was nice meeting you two, but I've got to get back. My husband gets a touch foolhardy if I'm not around to tell him what's what." Standing after a moment, Daisy steps away with a chuckle, touching Anna's shoulder before leaving, "Good to see you again, Booker. Don't be a stranger."

"Sure. Drop by sometime if you like."

"Oh, Madam Lutece," the moment Daisy's gone, Anna turns to Rosalind, "I've been wondering; why were you in that Columbia with a Vox soldier?"

"Yes, that's something I've been wondering myself." Now Robert chimes in, taking a seat beside his sister. Rosalind glances back at him, and when she speaks, there is a hint of annoyance in her voice.

"Very well." Glancing from Robert to Anna, Rosalind acquiesces after a moment of thought, "While awaiting my brother, I chose to pass the time observing those the girl and her father had encountered in their journey. When I wasn't watching the child, of course. While watching this Abigail, I overheard her say the girl's name, and she seems to comprehend matters and persons that should have been beyond her. Suffice it to say, my interest was piqued." Stopping for a moment, Rosalind seems to look off in the distance before focusing on Booker, "She'd been affected by your counterpart, and had gained some of his memories."

"Huh…" Rocking back in her chair, Anna leans back to stare up at the ballroom's ceiling, "Did that change her? Is that why you were there?"

"The change in Abigail was more of a reevaluation than a transformation. I'd already visited the young woman for that reason, and I must admit it did interest me. But I'd returned to test a hypothesis, and the experiment was quite successful."

"And…?" Booker leans on the table, his own curiosity now piqued.

"And the young woman cares for the girl and her father, and I suspect the feelings are genuine. It seems she inherited the emotional context of the memories as well, but she's taken an active interest in the former Lamb and False Shepherd. Last I saw her, Abigail seemed intent on making a difference."

"You risked unravelling our whole experiment for a hypothesis of an emotional sort? Dear sister, you surprise me."

Booker can only grimace as the twins start debating the merits and flaws of Rosalind's actions. But he catches a hint of a smile on Anna's face, and Booker slowly rises to his feet, "I think it's just about time to head home. If the two of you could hold off on this till afterwards, I'd be much obliged."

* * *

The clip-clop of hooves fall silent as the carriage pulls up to the DeWitts' home, Booker climbing out slowly and stretching. The cool breeze feels good, and the Founder of Columbia grins as he stares up at the nearly invisible new moon. True to his word, Slate had found him with a bottle of whiskey just as they were about to leave, and Booker's just starting to feel it.

"Are you alright?" Anna appears at his side, taking hold of Booker's arm and looking up at him with concern, "You're looking better than Slate did when we left, but are you going to be okay?"

"I'm fine, Anna." Gently shrugging her arm off, Booker shakes his head; he's not drunk, Booker's been there often enough to know when he is. But that doesn't stop Anna from worrying. "Trust me, I'm fine. C'mon, let's get inside, sweetheart." Slipping off his dinner jacket, Booker starts down the path towards the front door of their home, past trimmed rose bushes and through the well-kept lawn.

"Perhaps it's time we said our goodbyes, brother."

"Yes, I agree." Booker and Anna turn to find the Luteces standing at the edge of the lawn. Robert Lutece turns to take another look at his surroundings before continuing, a hand behind his back while making an openhanded gesture with the other, "We've enjoyed our time here, but we must be leaving now. Thank you for your hospitality."

"But before we depart, I've a question for you." Rosalind takes a step onto the gray flagstone path that bisects the front lawn, her own hands clasped in front of her, "Do the two of you still intend to watch over the girl?"

"Of course!" Anna quickly takes a half step forward, "After everything I've seen Elizabeth suffer through, I just…" Faltering, she crosses her arms and looks away, her long dark hair hiding her face from the Luteces. Her feelings for Elizabeth are well known to her father, and Booker covers his eyes for a moment before continuing.

"I don't imagine you'd quite understand, but I guess you could say… my Anna thinks of Elizabeth as her sister. And I don't blame her… I asked Elizabeth to stay when she was here last."

"Hmm… interesting. Although, I suppose such a response would be more expected of the two of you than the other girl." Robert steps up beside his twin, a hint of an amused grin tugging at his features.

Standing with her brother on the darkened street, lit only by the light of the street lamps, Rosalind turns away as she bids farewell, "Well, I shall bid you goodnight, we've business of our own to conduct. But before we go, do you wish us to convey a message to the girl?"

"No." Booker shakes his head as Anna makes to speak, and he puts a hand on his daughter's shoulder, "When Elizabeth was with us, the sad look in her eye never left except for a couple times. It doesn't matter that this Columbia is different, not to her."

"But father… she has her family now. Elizabeth's not lonely anymore, can't we at least…"

"No, Anna. Columbia's just a painful reminder to her." Anna falls silent, nodding and stepping towards the front door, and Booker turns back to the Luteces, "Thank you, Rosalind. But I have to ask you to not tell her about us; it's for the best…"

"Very well. Have a good night." With that, the Luteces disappear right before his eyes.

"Finally…" Muttering beneath his breath as he turns to follow Anna, only to find she's already disappearing into the house. "Anna?" No answer, and she's already up the stairs by the time he's closed the door behind him.

When he makes it upstairs, Booker finds the door to his office ajar and light spilling into the dark hallway from within, "Anna, are you alright?"

"I'm fine, father. I just want to check up on Elizabeth…" Stepping in as his daughter answers, Booker chuckles as he finds Anna already sitting behind his desk; she's already turned on the monitors, and the screens are already starting to clear up.

"Don't you want to change, first? Get a little more comfortable…" Hanging his jacket on a coat rack, Booker steps up to stand beside his daughter; she's still wearing her red satin evening gown, and he can't help but wonder why she's so insistent on doing this now. But she just shakes her head.

"Alright, alright." Leaning against his office wall, Booker lets his mind wander as Anna manipulates the array. "A Vox soldier… who would've thought someone like that would come to care for Elizabeth and her father like this…" The thought brings a hint of a grin to his features; perhaps it'd be best to contact her? "No, we can't… hmm… maybe? Rosalind did say not to open Tears to the other Columbias…"

The thought of Rosalind Lutece wipes the grin from his face, Booker wondering if the Lutece twins will respect their wishes. Once more, Booker finds their peculiar and incomprehensible nature annoying him. It'd be an easy thing for the Luteces to let it slip.

"There she is…" Anna stands slowly, her voice shaking Booker from his reverie, "Look, father."

The room on the screen is dark, lit only by moonlight. Elizabeth's embracing her Booker from behind as they sit on their small bed, looking to be comforting her father. The Booker on screen grips Elizabeth's hand, saying something too quiet to be heard. When a smile crosses his face, Booker can only grin, and he turns to his own daughter, "Are you satisfied, Anna? They're doing just fine."

"I am." Rising from her father's chair, Anna breathes a quiet sigh, "I don't know why I was worried… I guess I just got to thinking about how lonely she'd looked." A smile teases at her lips as she embraces her father, and Booker chuckles, hugging her back. "I wish I could see her again, father, but at least she's not alone anymore."

"No, she's not." Nodding as he agrees quietly, Booker reaches for the controls and shuts the monitors down, "There's a lot of us looking out for her now… I guess she isn't alone in the infinite anymore."

"Oh, come on, father." Anna slips out of his arms, grinning up at him, "That was a terrible line, and you know it." Booker can only chuckle as he steps away from the desk and out of the office with Anna close behind, leaving the monitors and the array for the night.

* * *

**Author's Note: **(That's about it, at least for now; if there's more to come, it'll be some time down the road from now, so I'll be checking Complete. Of course, I make no promises that it'll stay that way) **Disregard the parenthesized segment! It won't be long at all now.**

** I wanted to show a more of Booker's Columbia and the people who live there with this chapter, and the Luteces reaction to learning of its existence. Thanks for reading, and I hope you enjoyed the chapter and this version of Columbia.**


	4. From Above The Clouds

**Foreword: Well, a new set of ideas came up for this story, so here we go. I suppose you could call this and the next however many chapters come up as a second half. This chapter is concurrent with chapters 14-16 of I'm Home, so reading this chapter without having already read those may be somewhat confusing.**

* * *

April 22, 1921, 11:50 PM

A quiet yawn fills the dark, empty hallway as Anna DeWitt sleepily leaves the confines of her bedroom, trudging towards her father's office with an empty glass of water in her hand. "Overslept…" another yawn interrupts her as she mumbles softly, Anna holding her free hand up to her mouth to stifle it, "they're probably well finished by now… maybe I should just crawl back into bed…?" But she simply shakes her head; Anna and her father had been watching the drama with their counterparts and the census office unfold, and she just has to make sure everything is alright. And so she'd climbed out of bed and is making her way through the darkened house, clad only in her nightgown and an off-white robe that's only partially held closed.

A grin tugs at her lips as Anna passes her father's bedroom door, "I'm sure you would've loved to manage what Booker did, father. But we all know when your birthday is, and all your excuses to get out of it, too." He'd tried, of course, but she wouldn't take no for an answer; she'd led her resigned father down to the living room where a handful of his closest friends were waiting. But afterwards, they'd returned to the office to find that Elizabeth's father had himself managed to avoid a celebration, Anna's own father grumbling that 'just not telling anyone don't work anymore.'

A sigh parts Anna's lips, her thoughts of her father's birthday turning to her own; she turned twenty-eight this February. "Perhaps I should take the time to look at all those would-be suitors…" Mumbling again as she steps through the door, light floods the pitch-black office the moment she hits the switch by the doorframe, "Oh, I'll worry about this in the morning."

Rubbing the sleep from her eyes and gently placing her glass on the desk, Anna takes her father's seat behind the bulky controls, the monitors humming to life as she activates Rosalind Lutece's Array. "Heh," another grin teases at Anna's lips, the thought of Madame Lutece and the otherworldly 'other' Rosalind giving her a chuckle, "at least those Luteces haven't started asking about the Array or our Rosalind..."

While their visits have been infrequent, the Luteces always seem to appear at the most inopportune of times; Anna's beginning to suspect they're doing so intentionally.

"Let's see how Elizabeth's faring…" Still half asleep as she fiddles with the controls, Anna feels her eyes close as another yawn escapes her, the monitors just starting to clear of static as she does. "Guh… my bed's calling me…" Muttering again as the yawn abates, Anna lazily opens her eyes as she silently wishes her glass wasn't empty.

But what greets her when she looks at the monitors banishes any weariness or thoughts of her bed from Anna's mind, the brunette's blue eyes widening in panic and her breath catching in her throat; a figure in a trench coat stands before Booker and Elizabeth just outside their apartment building, balls of fire forming in its misshapen hands.

"What? No!" Anna bolts upright as the sound of gunfire fills the office, her hand knocking the glass from the desk's surface only for it to shatter on the carpeted office floor; the screen shows Elizabeth collapse as a bullet bites into her leg while Booker fires at the flame wielding figure. But then he grabs Elizabeth and helps his daughter to her feet, the pair fleeing as bullets and fireballs fly all around them.

It's not until the father and daughter crash through the front door and collapse onto the stairs that Anna can bring herself to do more than stare at the screen, the relatively safety for her 'sister' and Booker allowing the distressed woman to finally release the breath she's been holding. Her breathing's shallow but steady, Anna spending the next few seconds trying to calm herself while watching the DeWitts. And failing.

"Father!" Bolting for the door the moment she realizes calm is the last thing she'll be, Anna calls out for her own father even as she takes another glance at the monitors; Booker's rolled over and is now aiming his revolver back the way he came, his expression one of tension, concentration, and by the way his jaw is set, no small amount of anger.

"Father, wake up!" Tearing out of the office, Anna hammer's on the door to her father's bedroom.

"W-what? What's going on…?" Anna feels her jaw clenching as her father's sleepy voice comes through the door; she doesn't have time for twenty questions, not when the mysterious attackers could be hounding Elizabeth and her father at this very moment.

"Someone's attacked Elizabeth, father!"

"What?!" The painted white oak door flies open, Booker DeWitt standing there with an alert and disbelieving expression on his features despite appearing sleepy, Anna's father pulling on a burgundy robe of his own, "What do you mean, attacked? I thought they were breaking into some archives…?" Then a groan escapes him, Anna raising an eyebrow as her father covers his eyes with a hand.

"Someone with Plasmids or Vigors, I don't know! C'mon, let's go!" Grabbing her father by the sleeve, Anna half leads, half pulls Booker through the open door into his office, "See?"

"Ah, hell…" Booker groans as they both focus on the monitors; the Booker on the screen is still watching the door, but the Luteces have joined the pair, Rosalind treating Elizabeth's gunshot wound with a Columbian first aid kit. Anna's father heaves a quiet sigh as Elizabeth's father helps her to her feet.

"They're… they're alright." Now Anna sighs, trudging over to the desk and dropping into her father's chair, "What happened? Why did… how…?"

"Shh… it's alright." Her father shushes her quietly, moving to join her at the desk before turning back to the monitors, "Let's listen in, then decide if we need worry…"

"…alright, father. Umm…" Pushing herself up from the chair after a moment, Anna takes a seat instead on the corner of the desk, her father chuckling quietly as she grins sheepishly before turning back to the scene before her. The chair creaks a moment later, Booker settling into the old, wooden furnishing.

The conversation between Booker, Elizabeth and the Luteces is fairly short, but only one word need sum it all up; Splicers. How the horrors of Rapture had followed Elizabeth home is beyond her, but Anna still groans all the same; it should be impossible, but with Tears, impossible starts becoming a very relative term very quickly.

And then the monitors shut down as Elizabeth puts her father to bed and begins undressing, Anna quickly turning to protest only to find Booker shaking his head. "Splicers. Just what they need…" Groaning quietly as he rises from his chair, her father glances back at Anna, "I can't imagine you'll be getting any sleep tonight, but nothing's going to happen till morning."

"I suppose I can try…" Crossing her arms, Anna breathes a quiet, listless sigh, "Either way, I'll be waking bright and early…"

* * *

April 23, 9:15 AM

"Huh, would you look at that…"

Stepping into his office with a cup of black coffee in his hand and today's newspaper under his arm, Booker chuckles as he finds his daughter dozing on the white couch. Anna's been true to her word; she must have risen at dawn, and he can imagine her checking the monitors every few minutes. Resting there as she is, Booker can't help but be reminded of the little girl she once was, running around with a smile on her face, giggling, playing, and occasionally getting into a fight now and then. The last of that thought tempers his chuckle some, and Booker leaves Anna to rest as he takes his seat behind his desk.

"Our baby's grown up, Annabelle." Whispering as he spares a moment to glance at his departed wife's photo, Booker touches a finger to the glass and wood frame, only taking his gaze from Annabelle to look at the other photos; smiling Anna, no different from the genuine article still dozing on his couch, and the tired, sorrowful Elizabeth. "I suppose this you don't exist anymore…" Looking from the photos on his desk to the dark monitors, Booker feels a lopsided grin coming on, "Not since you returned home, anyway."

With that, Booker powers up the Lutece Array, the term coined by Anna after hearing its full name the first time. The monitors hum to life, and with it comes a stirring from the couch; Anna almost imperceptibly shifts, a quiet moan escaping first before her eyes flutter open. "… good morning…" Anna yawns softly as she groggily picks herself up.

"Morning to you, too." Still grinning, Booker starts fiddling with the controls as Anna rises, and he's silently grateful she'd had the sense to get dressed before stepping out of her bedroom; when he'd opened his door last night, he'd found Anna standing there with her robe having fallen open with only her nightgown beneath, breathing hard and looking panicked. "Sure, she had a good reason to be… but no father should have to see his daughter half-naked…" Now, she's dressed in a modest blue blouse and skirt, vaguely similar in cut to one of Elizabeth's outfits.

"Where… where are they now?"

"Haven't found them yet, Anna. I'd imagine they're already out." As if to prove him right, the monitors come into focus to show the empty New York apartment, Booker's counterpart and Elizabeth nowhere to be seen. "I think I've got them…"

A couple minutes of fine tuning later, and the monitors focus on a scene in an alley somewhere, Booker and Elizabeth plain to see and searching for the Splicers. Anna slowly takes a seat on the desk so she's beside her father, and Booker feels her hand resting on his. All he can do is grin.

Together, Booker and Anna watch as their other selves track the Splicers to a fishery among the warehouses, the pair stepping inside unopposed. But when Booker observes a trail of blood leading to the back, something starts nagging at the back of his mind. It isn't until the other DeWitts step into the refrigerated store room that the suspicion turns into a full blown bad feeling.

"That's a trap if I've ever seen… one…" Booker slows as he realizes he's echoing his other self exactly, an amused chuckle coming from Anna. But the bad feeling persists as he looks on, and the moment the other him and Elizabeth split up, Booker sees something that causes the hairs on the back of his neck to stand on end; a burst of red smoke disappearing from behind a group of hanging fish, the vanishing Splicer creeping towards Elizabeth before becoming completely invisible.

"Dammit!" Shouting as he pulls open a bottom drawer of his desk, one he rarely opens, Booker retrieves a dusty wooden box as he quickly climbs to his feet.

"Wait, what?" Anna jumps as he shouts, "What are you doing?"

"Elizabeth might need a hand, and her Booker ain't close enough to help." Striding out of his office, Booker pulls his brown, pinstriped jacket close and tugs on his maroon tie; he's not sure if he can pull this off, but Booker's damn sure he's going to try.

"Are we…" Glancing over his shoulder as he hears Anna's voice, Booker grins as he sees his daughter hurrying to catch up, "Where are we going, father?"

"Down."

* * *

It only takes them a few minutes to get down to the basement and through the security doors, and Booker heaves an exasperated sigh as he lays eyes on the last achievement of his city's greatest scientist. She'd called it the Trans-Dimensional Quantum Tunneling Array, but a partially melted piece of metal on the side of the machine reads something different.

"Trans-Dimensional Array for Remote… where's the rest?" Anna asks as she steps over to the machine.

"Don't know. Haven't seen a name listed anywhere else, and Rosalind called it something different when she showed it to me." Shrugging, Booker steps up to the ring of green tinted control panels, six in all and curving gently towards the center of the device; Booker never figured out why there are six of the roundish panels, and he shrugs again as he looks up at the core of the machine, essentially a Lutece Device with an extra pair of the support pillars and cables. Each are arranged perpendicular to the first two, and a transparent, glowing cylinder of glass or something similar passes from the top of the machine to the bottom. The cylindrical tube is mostly hidden, however, by the Lutece Field that still shimmers and shows New York and Elizabeth.

"Oh no…" Red smoke appears around Elizabeth, solidifying into the form of the trench coat wearing Splicer Anna had said threw fire at his other self and her 'sister'. His daughter's horrified gasp only barely reaches Booker.

"C'mon, which one of these controls lets us open a Tear…?" Bolting to one of the control panels, Booker starts fiddling with whatever knob or dial he can. And the Lutece Field flickers out of existence for his troubles. "Dammit, no!" Bellowing as the sight of Elizabeth struggling against the Splicer disappears, Booker slams his fist on the panel, hitting half a dozen of the controls at once, "Work, damn you!"

The Lutece field flickers back to life, and Booker can't help but wince; Elizabeth's falling back after avoiding the Splicer's fist. She won't last much longer, especially on the ground.

But then the field shimmers and expands for a second, the sound of a Tear opening fills the room for a brief second before disappearing, "Father, it's this one!" Anna's voice catches Booker by surprise, the older man slowly taking his gaze from the Lutece Field to find his daughter holding a lever on the adjacent panel. "Whatever you're going to do, do it fast!"

"Right!" Rushing for the box, Booker grits his teeth as he catches sight of the cover placard; Property of Booker DeWitt, 7th Cavalry, Wounded Knee. But the hateful memories don't stop him from lifting the lid and pulling out the sole object within; his old revolver, unused for thirty years now. An antique to be sure, but he's kept it in working order. "Anna, now!"

The moment Anna pulls the lever, Booker tosses the weapon through the opening Tear, the weapon landing flat on Elizabeth's palm. A few moments later, the offending Splicer's little more than shards of ice, the report of his old revolver ringing in his ears just the same as Booker remembers. "At least she didn't have to kill the bastard herself…"

"Father…" Anna's quiet voice comes from right beside him, his daughter having closed the Tear and left the lever, "You realize that... she'll want to know where it came from. Elizabeth will ask them…"

"Indeed, and I doubt we can dissuade her from such an inquiry."

"Most likely, we'll have to tell her the truth, brother."

"I know. That was quick, Lutece." Glancing past Anna as she turns towards the voices, Booker heaves a quiet sigh as he lays eyes on the Lutece twins.

"Naturally," Robert nods, "we were investigating the manner in which the Splicers came to be in their world."

"Until we noticed the Tear the two of you opened. Quite a fascinating device, really." Rosalind finishes as she gazes upon the Array. "I wonder if we can successfully apply this technology to a longer lasting version of the portable device."

"Unlikely, sister; that device only worked because of her power. It would be virtually impossible to create a miniaturized, self-contained version of our contraption, much less power it."

"That's… really quite fascinating, but…" Anna takes a step towards the twins, interrupting their back and forth, much to Booker's relief, "What are you going to tell her?"

"The truth, eventually-" Rosalind turns her unflinching gaze back to Booker and his daughter.

"Unless you have another suggestion." Finishing his sister's statement, Robert steps over to a control panel and peers at the Array.

"You could say it was from Abigail with your help? Or just from the two of you?"

"That won't go over well, Anna." Shaking his head, Booker turns to watch his other self and Elizabeth move deeper into the dark freezer, "Abigail's fighting a war, and this just isn't the Luteces' style…"

"Umm… I don't know, then…" Anna's gaze drops as she crosses her arms, looking dejected.

"Chin up. Perhaps this will be all for the best." Quipping as she joins her brother at the control panel, Rosalind touches thumb and forefinger to her own chin as she examines the Array.

"Maybe… but…" Rubbing his eyes, Booker groans as he remembers the look on Elizabeth's face the last time she was here, "just… huh? Dammit…" The Luteces are already gone, as if they were never here in the first place. "Just like always, huh?"

"I suppose there's nothing we can do, father."

"Yeah. About them, or for Elizabeth, short of stepping through ourselves…"

"Father, perhaps we should try…"

"Not a chance in hell." Cutting Anna off, Booker turns away from the device, "I'm not risking either of us with the 'tender' mercies of Tear sickness. And that's final."

"Father, we can just pull each other back before…" Anna falls silent as Booker turns back to her without a word, and he can only imagine the look on his face right now.

"Let's just head upstairs and see how this plays out."

* * *

6:05 PM

Sinking gratefully into her father's chair, Anna has to fight to keep a grimace from her face; the two of them had been cooped up in this office all day, only stepping out when their stomachs had decided to voice their displeasure at being ignored. That had been about an hour and a half ago, and she'd been sitting on the desk for the better part of two hours.

Now Booker stands beside her, watching her as much as the screen, but Anna's too focused on the other DeWitt family; the Lutece twins have opened a Tear back to Rapture, and the scene within the portal to that leaking city is more than enough to keep her alert and focused.

"Comstock's soldiers…?" Anna can only nod as her father's quiet voice reaches her, the scene on the monitors seemingly disconcerting to him as well, "I thought we were done with them. And this woman…? What's her story, I wonder…"

"Nothing's good if she's leading even a small band of Comstock's men, especially to Rapture. How did they get around Tear sickness?"

"Maybe they didn't?" Taking her gaze from the monitors only long enough to glance quizzically up at her father, Anna finds Booker shrugging as he continues, "Don't know; I guess they suffered through it, like Lutece did. When you're that feebleminded, who knows what could happen."

"I suppose it's possible," Anna can only shake her head, "but the woman, she looks like trouble, father. I'm not sure Booker's right about her; there's infinite worlds to choose from… why torment them? How did she even know where they are?"

"Probably has a grudge against them; they did kill Comstock; can't imagine any of the Founders being happy with them after that. But if she was serious, she'd just send her own soldiers after them…" Booker rubs his chin as a grimace crosses his features.

"Then what's her game?" Anna's paying less and less attention to the monitors now, she barley noticing the Luteces closing the Tear.

"Don't know, but we can't just go and ask." With that, her father leans close and flicks a switch on the bulky controls, powering down the machine and causing the monitors to go blank just as Elizabeth's being bandaged up again, "We've had a long day; you need your sleep."

"But... alright, father." Picking herself up from the chair, Anna has to fight to suppress a yawn. It's far earlier than she usually retires, but her father hand been right; she didn't sleep a wink last night, "Sorry you had to give up your old gun."

"It's fine. Elizabeth has much more pressing need of it than I do."

Nodding silently as her father chuckles and leads her out the door, Anna stops as Booker flips the light switch and closes the door behind him, "I suppose. But I just hope she never has to use it in earnest…" Another tiny yawn escapes her, and Anna breathes a quiet sigh once it passes.

"Yeah… hopefully, we all can enjoy a normal life for a while, least till trouble comes looking for them again."

* * *

**Author's Note: And there you have it, the answer to the origin of Elizabeth's weapon that'd fallen from a Tear. Honestly, how long do you really think the Columbia Booker and Elizabeth could keep from 'helping' now and then? ****I wanted to get this chapter done and ready after the Splicer arc in I'm Home, for obvious reasons, and I have to ask: how do you think Elizabeth will react if she learns of this Columbia's existence? The same as she did when she still had her powers and omniscience, or some other way?**

**Regardless, thanks for taking the time to read my work, and I hope you enjoyed it.**


	5. Mirror Imperfect

**Note: Corrected a small error in the previous chapter, tacked on an extra year to Anna's age by mistake.**

* * *

July 20, 1921, 10:30 AM

"Hrm… I ain't cut out for this…"

Grousing quietly, Booker DeWitt steadily makes his way down a less used street in Emporia to avoid the midday crowds; he'd just come from a dedication ceremony for a hospital, and Booker has no intention of shaking any more hands or having his picture taken again today. "And they all STILL call me Founder." Gritting his teeth, Booker shakes his head slowly as he rounds a corner, "Hell, can't they get it through their heads that it's just Booker?"

He could've been home already if he'd taken a carriage, but Booker had been sitting for the past couple hours before leaving the ceremony. He'd thought the walk home would do him good, and so he left the function on foot with as little fanfare as he could manage. And despite his age, Booker's still fairly strong, the Founder of Columbia feeling his age these days more from galas, receptions and other events of pomp and circumstance than he is now.

But his luck doesn't hold. "Oh, if it isn't the Founder. Good morning, sir." Booker blinks as a gentlemanly looking fellow steps around a corner and greets him, his manner and style labeling him as one who moves among the upper class regularly. He sports a dark burgundy suit and brown hair that parts at his hairline to frame his face, to a degree.

"Morning." Nodding, Booker steps past with a terse greeting of his own, even as something tells him he should know the man. "And call me Booker."

"My name is Flambeau, Founder. I must say, it is an-"

The name catches his ear, "That's it… you work for Fink, don't you?" Glancing back at the younger man and doing his level best not to glare, Booker nevertheless growls his displeasure, "Your boss never quits, does he… and never learns. Tell Fink I'm not interested."

"I assure you, sir, I'm not…" But Booker's already waking away, Flambeau's protests falling on deaf ears.

Turning onto his street a moment later, Booker takes a deep breath as he lays eyes on the crowd that's out and about at this hour; the back streets he'd taken to get this far had been all but deserted, but this street is closer to a main thoroughfare, and thus is crowded enough that there's no chance he'll get through here without being noticed. "Ah, hell… best get this over with." Picking up his feet, trying to hurry through the crowd, Booker keeps his head down even as men and women of all sorts take notice of his presence.

Booker's progress rapidly slows as a murmur rises from the crowd; most simply wish him and his family well while others come up to ask a question of him, but either way it leads to a small crowd forming around the gray-haired Booker. "Damn. Maybe I ought to have taken a carriage after all…" Thinking to himself as he smiles like the politician he used to be, Booker grimaces inwardly, "Maybe I should grow a beard or wear a hat… might throw a few of them off my scent."

"Alright, make way!"

An authoritative shout silences the crowd, and the small group parts a moment later. To one side stands the owner of the voice, a woman clad in the navy blue and black uniform of Columbia's finest, and Booker blinks; even though he's never laid eyes on the woman in person, he recognizes her all the same.

"Fou… Booker, do you require assistance?" Stepping alongside him as Booker moves through the parted crowd, the police sergeant gives him a polite nod; she's wearing her hair tied back as he's accustomed to seeing her, though it's a little longer and she's a little older. "Captain Slate told me a lot about you."

"Of course he did…" Muttering quietly, Booker glances sideways at the woman beside him, "You're Sergeant Monroe, right? Do you know a woman named Abigail?"

Surprise registers on Monroe's features, Booker chuckling as he watches her try to regain her composure. It takes a moment or three, but the sergeant nods quickly, "A-Abigail? Of course, sir." A grin touches the woman's lips as she continues, "But I know quite a few Abigails… it's not an uncommon name. Do you have a family name or description?"

"Irish, long red hair… she should be in her mid to late twenties by now."

"Ah… I'm sorry, sir. I don't."

"Hmm… damn shame. Thank you, Vivian, that'll be all." Turning his attention back to the street ahead, Booker nearly misses the surprised look returning to Sergeant Monroe's face as she stops in her tracks. "Dammit, I let that slip… she's going straight to Slate, I'd wager." But Vivian doesn't follow or ask him a thing, and Booker makes the rest of his way home in peace.

Stepping into the dark house and closing the front door behind him, Booker heaves a sigh; it's about noon know, but he's already beat. And he'd hoped the chance encounter with the police sergeant would help him put an end to something that had caught his interest; Booker's been quietly asking around to see if there is an Abigail in his city, the young Vox woman's resolve and spirit impressing him. But as far as he knows, there is no one matching her description in this Columbia.

Stepping away from the door with every intention of returning to his office, Booker instead veers left towards the kitchen when his stomach rumbles; the house is empty and he barely touched his breakfast this morning, Booker wandering over to the refrigerator in search of something to eat.

"Huh… would you look at that." Pulling a small plate from the fridge, Booker chuckles as he finds a small note next to the sandwich, 'Father' written on it. "Thanks, Anna." It seems his daughter's out again, Booker just unable to keep up with Anna's schedule these days; he'd guess she's either visiting with the Lutece twins again, or at a function of her own. "Can't imagine it's the latter, though…"

Trudging back through the living room, up the stairs and into his office, Booker drops into his office chair after placing the plate and a glass of water on his desk; it's too early for drinking, no matter how tired Booker feels. "Wonder how long those two are going to be…"

The Lutece twins have spent the better part of these past three months in Booker's Columbia. When he'd asked, the twins had simply stated that the best course of action they could take to avoid Elizabeth's questions was to simply avoid her for the time being, lest her suspicions push them to 'spill the beans' about Booker, Anna and Columbia.

"Damn fools… can't imagine Elizabeth's getting any less suspicious by their absence." Staring wearily at his desk and the papers that cover it as he heaves an exasperated sigh, Booker takes a bite out of his sandwich, "Hmm… turkey, huh?"

The Luteces have been holed up in 'their' lab nearly the entire time they've dwelled in his city. The place had long since been listed as a Columbian historical site, but it's also a restricted area that few are allowed into due to the Tear technology within. So far, their inhabitation of the place hadn't been found out, the most anyone has noticed being lights coming from within the empty lab. The fact that the twins need no food or drink has only helped matters, their effect on his city by their presence much like that of a ghost.

"Don't even have to walk out the front door…" While their ability to blink into and out of existence is somewhat muted here, the Luteces' tendency to ignore little things like walls, doors and privacy only helped to keep the scientists from being discovered. "Hell, the most anyone's seen of them was at that reception…"

Settling back in his chair after polishing off the first half of his sandwich, Booker turns his attention to a pile of paperwork; even though he's retired, there seems no end to the influx of paperwork for the Founder of Columbia, projects and public works he'd started before leaving office still clamoring for his attention. To make matters worse, Booker doesn't even have an assistant or secretary to help due to his retirement, unless he decides to employ one on his own. Not an appealing prospect.

But after signing a few forms that are mostly frivolous, Booker's gaze slowly turns to the control panel that sits on his desk. Neither he nor his daughter have checked up on Elizabeth in the past several days, their own concerns in life leaving he and Anna little time to see how she's doing. And while Booker's curious as to what the other DeWitt family is up to, he has something else on his mind as he powers up the Lutece Array; a place that surely must exist for the last Comstock to have fled from. And with Anna out of the house, now's as good at time as ever.

The monitors flicker to life and a low hum emanates from the controls, Booker backtracking Comstock's time in Rapture to get a feel for where to look; even when virtually all of the realities that bore a Columbia had been wiped out, finding them is much like trying to find a particular bottle in a warehouse of unlabeled spirits. It takes him the better part of another hour to find the right reality, and Booker takes a breath to steady himself as the monitors come into focus.

The city that appears before him is very similar to the others he's during his vigil. There is still a prophecy in this world, but with no Elizabeth to serve as 'seed of the Prophet' or to 'sit the throne', it seems a very different beast; the Founders are still in power even without Comstock to lead them, their rallying cry to 'fulfill our Prophet's God-given cause'. They're just as militant as in the other worlds, and so are the Vox Populi; though the revolutionaries still fight the Founders, their uprising has yet to become a reality.

Fink is still exploiting his workers to further his own agenda and the Founders', and Booker can't help but grimace; the opportunistic little weasel is the same in every reality, and seeing him here simply reminds Booker of his city's own Fink. And just as in his Columbia, this world has no Tears due to Elizabeth's presence, and Fink has no way to steal the knowledge of Plasmids from Rapture and market his Vigors. And of course, Fink's machinations led to the 'deaths' of Robert and Rosalind Lutece, the twins being 'killed' shortly after they sent Comstock to Rapture. Why, Booker's not sure.

"Looks like they sent him through in 1910… what year is it now…?" Muttering to himself, Booker manages to find a newspaper, though he can't be certain how old the paper is. "Eighth of May, nineteen-hundred and thirteen… wait…"

The date is all but forgotten as he reads the paper's headline; 'First Lady of Columbia, Lady Comstock, to give a public address on the eve of our Prophet's disappearance.'

Booker's hands are back on the controls in a heartbeat, searching Columbia for Lady Comstock or anything regarding her. And find her he does; Lady Comstock rests in her home in the upper levels of Comstock House, seemingly preparing for the mentioned speech. She holds a piece of paper in her hands, and is reading it to herself as if there were an audience in the bedroom with her. Even though she looks older, Lady Comstock still appears every bit the woman Booker had married so long ago, Annabelle DeWitt. And the sight of her breaks Booker's heart all over again, the pain he'd felt after he lost his love returning in full; Booker can only just barely tear his gaze from his wife's other self, and only then does he realize he's been holding his breath.

"It's not her, Booker…" Gritting his teeth, Booker takes a deep breath to calm himself; he knows this isn't his Annabelle, but simply knowing this doesn't help. In his search for her, Booker had learned she's a cold, cruel woman, the hardships of leadership, the Founders, and probably being married to that bastard Comstock more than likely having exacerbated those qualities within her. And the power struggle he's seen hints of between her and Fink probably hasn't helped any.

There's one thing about Fink that is plain to see; he always, always wants more. More wealth, more control, more power. As such, his opposition to Lady Comstock's 'weak' rule was bound to happen once Comstock disappeared, and a few other politicians seem to be vying for power as well. But she's well entrenched, it seems, and Booker can't see Lady Comstock being dethroned anytime soon.

But as in all Columbia's, Tear technology exists, though the Founders don't seem to have grasped it yet. Whether this Columbia becomes a problem or not is yet to be seen, but Booker can only hope that this flying city will keep to itself. "Hmph… fat chance of that… but I guess it'll be fine so long as they don't threaten Elizabeth, or us..."

Interlacing his fingers before him with his elbows on the desk, Booker rests his eyes against his hands, trying to ignore a small voice that popped up within him; "She's not your wife, don't be a damn fool…" But he still wants to see her again, even though he knows this woman is, at best, only a dark reflection of his Annabelle.

Sitting there in his office, Booker broods as conflicting desires and notions war within him. But that's all pushed aside when the sound of the front door slamming shut reaches his office, Booker lifting his head at the noise and thankful for the interruption; the voice of a man and two women come from downstairs, his daughter's bringing a smile to his gruff features. And from the sound of it, Anna's climbing the stairs and drawing closer with each passing second.

Shutting down the device, the monitors fading to black a mere moment before the oaken door of his office swings inward, Booker grins as Anna walks into his office. "Father, I knew you'd be in here," stepping from the doorway before Booker can rise and coming to stand beside his desk, Anna crosses her arms and looks down at her father with a smile, "you didn't run out on the grand opening, did you? How was it?"

"No, I didn't. And the 'grand' opening was a long, dull affair. I don't know how you do it, sweetheart."

"Lots of practice, and patience." Still smiling, Anna leans close to give him a hug, Booker grinning as he brings up an arm to hug her in return. But it's a wistful smile; Anna's been entertaining suitors in some small manner of late, and he can't kick the worrisome feeling that these men are trying to take his little girl away. Even though Booker knows she's not a little girl anymore.

"Course, given how many she's rejected, it may be a time still…" Thinking to himself as they part, Booker slowly picks himself up from his chair, "So, Anna, where're the twins?"

"Right outside. They were arguing in their way, and suggested I step in ahead of them… something about 'whether the girl will believe us or not'."

"Quite." Both turn as Rosalind Lutece steps into the office, shaking her head, "She won't believe such an absurd story for a moment."

"Perhaps, but it is a far better option than simply behaving as if nothing occurred, sister." Following close behind, Robert continues to argue, the male Lutece sounding more than a touch exasperated, "Such things are possible, if highly improbable."

"If you say so, dear brother. I shall simply watch when she starts interrogating you." Rosalind turns away from her brother as Booker starts massaging his temples, and he's silently grateful when she addresses he and Anna rather than continue arguing, "It is time that we depart, we've been away entirely too long."

"What? It hasn't been that long." Surprise is written across Anna's face, Booker's daughter walking over to the Luteces as she asks, "I thought you meant to stay out of sight until Elizabeth's, ah, curiosity has lessened some?"

"If it hasn't at this time, it never will." Robert answers evenly, and booker has to agree; he never for a moment imagined that Elizabeth would just let this go.

"So what do you mean to tell her?"

"I intend to explain that it was a random Tear. While she's unlikely to believe it outright, perhaps this will stop her queries for a time." Robert answers, glancing at his sister for a moment.

"And I say, brother, that perhaps it might be time to tell her the truth. After that supposition, it may be the only option after insulting her intelligence so." Rosalind shakes her head again, the redheaded woman looking a touch put out.

"No." Booker stops them before they can start up again, "Look, Elizabeth won't be happy, that's for damn sure. Don't tell her about our Columbia, we don't need her thinking on painful memories any more than she already does."

"Father," a light touch on his shoulder, and Booker finds Anna at his side, "maybe we can help. We could write her a note, something vague but hopefully comforting."

"That would be most helpful." Nodding, Rosalind turns to Robert, "Don't you agree, brother?"

"Perhaps, sister."

"A note, huh?" Taking a seat behind his desk again, Booker opens one of the left hand drawers and fishes for something to write on. What he finds surprises him; a stack of stiff, off-white stationary with a spiraling gold and blue pattern along the border, the feel of the sheets reminding him of a greeting card. "Anna, you put this here, didn't you?" Anna just smiles as she takes a seat on the desk beside him.

Putting pen to paper, Booker tries to keep the message short and to the point. And he fails utterly; once he's finished, Booker blinks as he finds mention of her confinement, and the crestfallen look she'd worn as he showed her around his city. "Dammit… let's try this again." Crumpling the stiff sheet in his hands, Booker starts again with a fresh sheet. And again. And again, this time with Anna's assistance.

"Alright, that looks… fine, I guess." Still holding the pen just above the paper, Booker nods as he looks the message over; there's nothing specific and no mention of either his or Comstock's Columbia.

"It looks good, father. She might ask for details, but I'm sure the Luteces will come up with something. Right?" A smile still adorns Anna's lips, and she glances back at the twins for a moment.

"Very well," Rosalind's voice draws Booker's attention from the note and Anna, the peculiar woman moving to stand opposite him across the desk, "we shall deliver this when it is needed." Booker eyes Rosalind oddly as she emphasizes the 'when', "But… are you certain you wish to sign it?"

"Huh?" Looking down, Booker finds he's nearly put pen to paper again, where one would usually put a signature. "Ah… I can't imagine signing it would change Elizabeth's sense of this… might scotch the whole thing."

"It's alright, father; they don't need to know us, remember?" The sheet slides out from beneath Booker's hands, Anna quickly folding the note before handing it to Rosalind, "Take care of them, alright?"

"Of course." Nodding back, Rosalind slips the folded note into her jacket, "We put our time in your city to good use, after all."

"What do you… perhaps it would be best if I don't ask." Standing slowly, Booker ambles over to one of the office windows, staring out over his city and into the distance as the Luteces take their leave. It takes a few minutes for them to disappear though, Anna wanting to say farewell before the twins vanish for the foreseeable future. A grimace touches his features when Robert mentions they shall return from time to time.

"Father… what's wrong? You've seemed distant after coming home." The worry in his daughter's voice draws Booker's attention away from the view, he looking back over his shoulder. She stands at the door of the office, her right hand on the frame as she gives him a worried look.

"It's… I'm fine, Anna." A grin tugs at Booker's features, and he manages to step away from the window and all thoughts of that 'other' Columbia. "Just saw something nostalgic, is all." The image of Lady Comstock comes to mind again, and Booker shakes his head to clear it. "Never mind me, how was your day?"

"Fine… the Luteces showed me what they'd been working on. Hey, do you really not want to know?"

"Ah… hell, I'll bite. What is it?"

"Something Elizabeth asked for after the Splicers first attacked." A sneaky grin teases at Anna's lips, and she turns to saunter out the door a moment later.

"What? What do you mean by that?" Following after his daughter, Booker shakes his head and chuckles at her playful antics. But even as he leaves the office behind, the Founder of Columbia silently hopes that the distant, 'other' flying city will stay just that; distant and untroublesome.

* * *

**Author's Note: Well, I know some of you have been wondering if I had any plans for the last Comstock's Columbia, and here it is for now. Just a little more on Booker's Columbia, the Luteces' time there, and the above mentioned 'other' Columbia. I sat for a while and thought about what a Columbia after Comstock abandoned it would be like, and this is what I came up with. How do you think Columbia Booker will react after seeing the image of his departed wife?**

**As usual, I'll be checking the chapter (and the last one, still haven't had time to give it a proper post-posting shake down) for errors and inconsistencies sometime soon. ****If anyone sees any issues or the like, feel free. Thanks for reading, and I hope you enjoyed the chapter. **


	6. Winter and Worries

**Foreword: I meant to post this chapter last week but decided to go with the last chapter of Those Left Behind instead. Even so, the length of the chapter is fairly short and the overall plot is fairly minimal; I wanted to show a little more of Columbia again and follow up on what was started in the previous chapter.**

* * *

December 2, 1921, 2:30 PM

"Bye, father."

"Be careful out there, Anna, and have a good time." Booker waves as his daughter steps out the front door; Anna's taking a much needed day off and heading out for some time with her friends. She's been so busy lately that Booker has to wonder how she fits it all in one day.

Booker's daughter has started to finally show leanings towards some possible careers; Anna has the intelligence and schooling to pursue a career in the sciences if she so chooses, and as always she possesses the charisma and people skills to run for office. Course, he'd long since figured Anna would do well at just about anything she set her mind to.

But Anna's busy schedule and considerations of her future isn't the only things occupying her time, or his; Booker and Anna have been considering an idea and attempting to see if it's feasible. Something they did back in April, though the two of them had been spurred on then by the Splicer attack on Elizabeth and her father.

"Damn things not meant to open Tears in the first place…" Grumbling as he turns to climb back up the stairs, Booker turns down the hallway once he reaches the top rather than step into his office, running fingers through his brown and gray hair as he heaves a tired sigh. Figuring out Rosalind Lutece's last invention was Anna's idea, and the two of them had spent plenty of time lately in their basement with the Lutece Array; Anna's all for the idea of being able to help Elizabeth should the need arise, but Booker is more than a little skeptical. He doesn't much care for the idea of Elizabeth's curiosity being piqued by an all too convenient Tear opening at just the right time.

Still, father and daughter have been trying to find a way to open a Tear in the office rather than having to trek down through security doors and into the basement. But the idea to have a passable, convenient Tear on hand seems a lost cause without building a normal Lutece Device, and Booker doesn't care much for the idea of one of those massive machines in his home and out in the open.

But thoughts of Tear technology and the dangers inherent with it darken Booker's mood. "Some just can't leave well enough alone…"

The extent of Rosalind Lutece's legacy is mostly unknown to the populace of Columbia, and for good reason. Despite the dangers, however, Jeremiah Fink has been lobbying to have the 'missing' Rosalind's patents and inventions become public domain.

To make matters worse, a few of Columbia's younger politicians have been murmuring in support of Fink's proposition, quietly for the time being; it's a well-known fact that the weaselly capitalist is persona non grata with the Council and Booker, and vocally supporting Fink could put a damper on the junior politicians' careers.

"That snake's probably got those kids in his coat pocket…" Scowling at the thought, Booker steps through his bedroom door and breathes a quiet sigh as he looks around the dimly lit room. His sleeping quarters are fairly simple, Booker preferring it this way despite his former seat on the Council and title as Founder: plain gray curtains are drawn over the room's sole window, blocking most of the afternoon's light and filling the room with shadows; a large double bed sits against the wall adjoining Anna's room, comfortable but far from opulent with dark covers and sheets; as far as the rest of the room, there's a small bookcase with a couple books on it and a pair of end tables by the bed, but that's all.

Taking his time as he trudges over to his bed, Booker kicks off his shoes before dropping onto the blanket and mattress; in truth, Rosalind's patents expired years ago, but the designs for several of her latest achievements are secreted away, such as the Array hidden in his basement. Booker can only try to imagine the chaos that would cause if it became known of to the general public.

"Least Daisy and the others are of like mind about this…" The Council's kept both the more dangerous and more conspicuous of Rosalind's inventions in the city's hands, even the particle lift system that keeps Columbia from plummeting out of the sky.

Lying on his back on the bed, the back of his wrist and forearm resting against his closed eyes, Booker lets his thoughts drift from Tear technology and weasels like Fink. What they settle on is less worrisome, both due to its nature and the fact that it's over; Booker's counterpart returning to Rapture to make sure the monster there met his end.

It's a rare occurrence that either Booker or Anna focus the Lutece Array onto his other self; watching the hard-bitten ex-Pinkerton for too long becomes an all unpleasant reminder of Booker's own past. But that is just what he'd done, a little over a month ago.

The Luteces had informed him of their plans after Elizabeth's birthday, the peculiar twins returning to his city the day after the festivities. At first, he thought they must surely be mad, sending Elizabeth's father back into that nightmare, but the Luteces simply stated that it was a necessary undertaking. And so, Booker had risen late at night on the 29th of October and snuck into his office, not wanting to wake his daughter; when the monitors hummed to life, Booker had to chuckle when he saw the other him doing the same.

Though Booker wouldn't even dream of trading his circumstances for anyone else's, even this version of him, he'd been envious of the younger man on the screen as he descended a rope to confront the bastard who would have been responsible for Elizabeth's death. Looking on, Booker had watches the events unfold with a mixture of worry that something could go horribly wrong and a sense of vindication, seeing that psychopath Atlas get what he sorely deserved. Even though he's well past his prime, Booker wanted nothing more than to wring the life out of the bastard who murdered Elizabeth, a desire that'd been just as strong a month ago as it had been the day he saw her die. "Heh… guess that Booker and I have that in common, too."

Frowning as he takes his arm from his eyes and stares up at the ceiling, Booker shakes his head slowly, "Least we can still watch over Elizabeth… and her."

While Booker and Anna still spend some of their time watching over Elizabeth and her family, he has taken to using the Lutece Array lately to look into a specific world and a specific woman. It's something he only can do when his daughter is out or otherwise preoccupied; looking through the space between worlds at the spitting image of his departed wife.

Sometimes he peers through the veil at Elizabeth and her family when he's by himself, occasionally he'll check up on the Vox woman Abigail and the Little Sister Sally. But more and more, Booker finds himself drawn to that other Columbia that the last Comstock abandoned, and to the Annabelle of that world, also abandoned by the 'Prophet'.

Booker knows why he shouldn't keep on as he has been, and that he shouldn't feel a thing for this woman; she isn't really 'his' Annabelle, but Lady Comstock; the woman and the city she rules over are more than a little dangerous, too dangerous to risk contact with, and he can't risk his own family and his own city on a longing based on heartbreak and nostalgia. But all the reasons in the world can't keep him from wanting to meet this woman, and it takes Booker a hell of will to keep from using the Array to peer at her again, or worse, open a Tear to her Columbia despite Rosalind's warning. It's for this reason that Booker's sworn off liquor for the time being; there's no telling what he'll do if he's falling down drunk.

But knowing why he shouldn't pursue this and having to struggle to keep himself from doing something rash only leaves Booker feeling miserable. "IT's not easy, telling yourself not to want something…" Rising slowly from his bed, Booker sits on the side for a minute to collect his thoughts before standing, "Can't stay in bed all day… I'm not that old, yet."

Stepping out of his bedroom, Booker turns down the hallway towards his office and the staircase down to the first floor; he's not sure where he's going, but he'll figure it out when he gets there. "Hmph…" Rubbing his eyes before focusing them on his office door, Booker feels a grin tug at his features, "Don't know why I ever thought I could keep this a secret…"

To make matters even worse than they already were, Anna had caught him one night a couple weeks ago. She'd been surprised first by him being up so late and then again when she saw Lady Comstock on the monitors. His daughter had turned those blue eyes of hers to him, quietly stepping to the desk to take a seat on it, and asked him for an explanation with her voice ever so soft. And when she'd gotten the explanation, Anna was sympathetic, but Booker knew she just couldn't understand; though she spoke to her mother's grave as often as he did, Anna never knew the woman.

He'd promised Anna he wouldn't do anything hasty, and that had seemed enough for his worried daughter. But even so, as booker opens his office's door and makes for his old, comfortable chair, Booker still wants to meet the woman somehow; he almost has no choice.

Taking his seat, Booker glances at the device controls on his desk, wondering if looking into that world again will help him feel better. "No… dammit man, you can't risk any of this…" But he just falls silent, an idea coming to Booker and leaving him dumbstruck; he doesn't need to attempt this unprepared, nor does he need to risk his own world.

"The Luteces. They might see it clear to help… or at least act as a safety net." Rubbing his chin, Booker leans back in his chair and stares without seeing across the room and at the monitors that rest on the wall, "They could open a Tear… it'd have to be in another world, though. And I'll have to contend with Tear sickness first…" That draws a grimace from Booker; he hardly feels comfortable with the thought of having his memories scrambled.

"But it could work." A hint of a smile replaces the grimace, and Booker slowly looks down at his desk as his mind works, "I'll need to write out the details… no, more than that. Everything important to me has to be recorded somehow… ah, hell... I should get a voxophone or two."

Digging through his desk, Booker retrieves a plain sheet of paper and begins writing,; he's not sure if the Lutece twins will assist him, not sure he'll even go through with it, but Booker wants to be ready should it happen. And this time, he'll make damn sure Anna doesn't find him out.

* * *

7:30 PM

"Well… I suppose that was worthwhile…"

Muttering quietly to herself, Anna stares up at the replica of the Statue of Liberty; it's nowhere near as tall as the genuine article, but the copper statue is still impressive nonetheless. The roller coaster tracks that wind around it notwithstanding.

Anna DeWitt stands at the New York section of a massive new theme park, the grounds shaped roughly like the United States with each of the 48 states boasting some sort of ride, exhibit or other attraction, not to mention vendors offering a taste of the 'local' foods. She's fairly certain some of the 'genuine' meals she's seen are anything but, though she does give the park an A for effort. While most of the attractions are fairly straightforward fare, such as themed roller coasters, carousels, even a Ferris wheel, others have exhibits on the customs and culture of the area.'

She'd only come at the insistence of two of her friends, the three of them having gone through school together and remained close over the years; while Anna has many friendly acquaintances, she has few close friends, and these two are among them. But the hour's grown late, and she'd bid her friends goodnight after disembarking from the Statue of Liberty roller coaster.

"Doesn't help that the weather's turning… suppose it's about time I returned home." Looking up at the darkened sky, Anna pulls her maroon coat tight around her as she spies a smattering of snowflakes drifting on the cold breeze. The park wasn't especially crowded thanks to the season approaching winter and the place having been open since June, but the weather had been mild enough for a respectable number of park goers to come today.

It's been a good day, and the daughter of the Founder of Columbia really needed it. Between attempting to figure out a better method to help her distant sister, trying to decide between countless suitors and having to decide on what she wants to do with her life, Anna's got plenty on her plate. And seeing her 'mother' on the monitors in her father's office hasn't helped any.

When she'd woken up to find her father in the office two weeks ago, the last thing she'd expected to see on the monitors was Lady Comstock, and it'd taken Anna a good while to recognize that the woman was the 'same' woman whose photo sits on her father's desk beside hers and Elizabeth's.

Leaving the amusement park and heading for the gondola station, Anna feels a sigh part her lips as she thinks on that night. The forlorn expression her father wore when he looked at the woman on the monitors hadn't helped her any then, and it still worries her now. And the answer she'd gotten when she asked him why wasn't much better.

"He just had to see her again…" Shaking her head as snowflakes drift to the ground around her, Anna pulls her coat tight around her again, the dress she'd decided to wear today not helping much against this chill wind. Her father wouldn't say how long this has been going on, only that it's been a while, and Anna couldn't help but worry at the vague answer.

She'd looked back at the screen then and at the woman depicted there, mixed emotions rising within her; Anna wishes she knew more about her mother and had a chance to know her personally, but she also knows this woman is nothing like her actual mother. She'd married that twisted bastard Comstock after all, the man sharing the same origin as her father but was nothing like him, either. Yet, this Lady Comstock seems to have a hold on Anna's father, yet another matter to worry about.

Anna had powered down the Lutece Array and knelt before her father, asking him to promise not to do anything foolhardy, like trying to contact the woman who looked so much like his wife and her mother. And her father had agreed, but there was something in his eyes that told her he wouldn't be able to just give this up.

"At least he hasn't gone looking for her again… I think." Shaking her head again, Anna steps into the gondola station, turning her thoughts to other matters.

The gondola station offers transit from the amusement parks and other attractions nearby to middle and lower class districts as well as to Emporia, a handful of gondolas providing transport to nearby neighborhoods and to larger hubs where more mundane forms of transportation will suffice. And the station is bustling with activity; Columbian citizens and visitors alike making their way home after a day out, no different than Anna is.

"I should've spent some time looking around rather than at a theme park…" Making her way through the crowd with her head lowered in an attempt to keep from being recognized, Anna frowns, remembering one of her purposes for going out today; Christmas is fast approaching, and Anna knows all too well that Elizabeth's only ever had one real Christmas. She meant to begin looking for a gift, one that wouldn't give away that it came from her father's Columbia and appropriate for the time Elizabeth lives in.

Stepping up to the ticket counter, Anna smiles as the clerk hands over a ticket without question, the look in the young man's eyes showing recognition even though he remains silent. "That's one perk of being my father's daughter…" Silently thanking the young man, Anna slips away through the crowd, hiking up the collar of her coat and redoubling her efforts to go incognito.

"Doubt she could wear a dress from the 1920s in 1895... she'd stick out like a sore thumb, on a good day." Climbing aboard the gondola and taking a seat against the railing, Anna breathes a quiet sigh as she runs down a list of possible gifts, "I couldn't give her chocolates twice… and clothing is out of the question… unless I could find a vintage boutique. A new book, perhaps? No, that'd give away the year..."

The seat beneath her jerks slightly as the gondola pulls away from the station, Anna barely paying it any mind; she'd grown up riding the gondolas and hovercrafts, and while the experience is usually a thrill for first time visitors to Columbia and new immigrants, it's nothing new to Anna. She simply continues down a mental list of possible Christmas gifts.

"A phonograph would be just as bad…" With her head down and long hair draped around her face, Anna barely notices anything that occurs around her, the younger DeWitt crossing her arms and sinks deeper into her seat. "What's left? Let's see… no new books, probably no older books, no clothes, and no sweets. I don't know…"

A thump sounds to Anna's right, and she glances over to find a pair of children climbing up onto the seats beside her; a boy and a girl around four or five, the latter humming something Anna can't quite make out. And a smile tugs at Anna's lips, the children giving her an idea.

"Elizabeth does love music… a music book or even an instrument could be just what I'm looking for. Or a music box…" Lifting her head and leaning back in her seat, Anna wonders just how Elizabeth would react to one of those possible gifts; she can't imagine her sister would be displeased with any of them, but the question is which one? She passes the rest of the gondola ride in relative silence, the murmur of the other passengers chatting and the children beside her humming keeping the hint of a smile on Anna's lips.

It's not until she's unlocking the front door of her home that Anna starts to worry again; the house is absolutely dark except for a single light, emanating from her father's office, and Anna can't help but wonder if he's still up there. Or worse, he could be taking another look at the other Columbia and the imperfect mirror of her mother.

Anna had gone to her mother's grave the morning after she'd found her father with the Array on, more than a little troubled; she couldn't understand how her father could feel for someone he'd never met in person, only looked like the Annabelle Watson he'd married. It felt wrong to her, and she hoped her father would understand that; but she's almost certain he didn't.

"Father?" Climbing the stairs as quietly as she can, Anna only calls out when she reaches the open office door and peers inside. A single thought crosses her mind as her eyes adjust to the light, and she breathes a quiet sigh of relief, "At least he's not looking to that other woman again."

Her father's asleep at his desk, resting against his arms crossed over the wooden surface. The room looks as it always does; there are no tumblers, bottles or anything else present to indicate he's been drinking or doing anything of the sort. It simply looks like he's fallen asleep while working on some paperwork, a pile of official looking forms sitting on a corner opposite the Lutece Array's controls and some assorted other papers sticking out beneath his folded arms.

While she's still worried about her father and preoccupied with the challenges she faces, Anna can't help but smile as she steps away from the office; he's just the same as she remembers, her father having always worked till exhaustion as long as she can remember. Slipping quietly into her father's room, Anna retrieves his blanket only to return to the office and drape it over his shoulders. As close as she is now, Anna can't help but notice the touch of a grin tugging at her father's features, and she leans close to whisper, "I hope you feel better soon, father. Sweet dreams."

* * *

**Author's Note: Well, I know that not a lot got done in this chapter, but I do have a purpose for it, so bear with me. I figured that Booker wouldn't be able to easily forget about what may be the last Annabelle Watson in existence, or at least as he remembers her. Of course, who knows how that would end if he actually went through with it? And on another topic, given the nature of Booker's Columbia, Soldier's Field and Battleship Bay probably wouldn't exist. I'm also not especially pleased with the title, but we'll see if I come up with something better.**

**There may be small changes here and there, more so than usual, and if anyone has any feedback, feel free to let me know. Thanks for reading, and I hope you enjoyed the chapter. **


	7. The Disappearance Of Booker DeWitt

**Foreword: Quick note, this chapter takes place further down the line compared to the latest chapter of I'm Home (23), so it may be a bit before we get to the next chapter in this series.**

* * *

February 3, 1922, 11:35 AM

Consciousness comes slowly to Anna DeWitt this morning, she cracking her bleary eyes open tentatively and staring up at the ceiling for a good while before she even realizes she's awake. And it is anything but a good morning as far as Anna is concerned; she's feeling a touch under the weather and more than a little drained, her eyes especially sensitive. To top it off, the daughter of Columbia's Founder has plenty to worry about, her physical condition notwithstanding.

Last night especially had been more than a little unusual; Anna had come home after a rather uneventful dinner with one of many of her suitors, the man as charming as all the others but not especially noteworthy. The restaurant they'd gone to had been wonderful, the dinner delicious, but all and all, Anna can't recall too many details of note. The night simply hadn't left an impression on Anna, though that could partly be attributed to her having had a couple of glasses of wine, or more.

"Guh… feels like more…" Groggily blinking the sleep from her eyes, Anna mutters to herself softly, the ailing brunette still curled up beneath her blanket and suffering the effects of imbibing too much drink. There's much she had planned to attend to today, but an exasperated groan escapes Anna as she begins to suffer a pounding headache, "Ah… hell with it."

Rolling over and pulling the covers over her head, Anna wishes for nothing more than to be able to fall back asleep. "At least until I stop feeling like I'm half dead…" The room is warming up quickly and Anna's place beneath the covers is heating even quicker still, but she doesn't care; she just wishes to be free of feeling this terrible.

But as she lies there on her bed and with the soft blanket wrapped partly around her, Anna finds that sleep does not come, leaving her to stare at the back of her eyelids fruitlessly; something nags at her thoughts, like an annoying mosquito that keeps buzzing past one's ear. But specifics of whatever is bothering her eludes her, Anna grimacing as a feeling of nausea begins to swell up within her.

Somehow, Anna manages to fight back the nausea and continues lying there on her bed, now desperately wishing to fall asleep even as her mind wakes more and more, she silently cursing whatever it is that nags at her so.

In the end, her efforts prove futile; another side effect of too much wine soon rears its head, and thirst finds Anna all too quickly, the beleaguered woman groaning softly. Throwing the covers aside, Anna climbs out of her bed with a sigh as her mouth begins to feel as if she'd been chewing on cotton balls.

"Damn…" Now that she's out from beneath the covers, Anna realizes just how warm it's become; a thin sheen of perspiration coats her, and Anna's nightgown clings to her in a most uncomfortable, slightly damp manner. "Best I get cleaned up then… before I run into father, at least."

Quietly, Anna slips on her robe and steps out of her bedroom, groggily trudging down the thankfully dim second floor hallway; while the heavy curtains in her bedroom block the sunlight quite well, there is a glow around the edges of the thick fabric when it is bright out. Looking at the curtains today made her wince in pain, Anna's eyes still sensitive to light after the night before.

Still, even in the shadowy hallway there is an offensively bright ray of sunshine; a window at the far end of the hallway near the bathroom and store room allows light to filter into the house, and it is far too bright for Anna to approach or even look at directly. "Far as I can figure…" mumbling as she touches a hand to the wall for support, Anna turns and takes a small step towards the stairs, "I've slept much too long… might even be noon. Ah… I'll get cleaned up later…"

But even as addled as her mind is from the night before, Anna quickly realizes that something is amiss; the house is far too quiet for this time of day. This realization is only punctuated when Anna finds her father's bedroom door hanging ajar, she only noticing the peculiarity as she passes it and thinking it unusual.

Eventually, Anna makes her way down the stairs and to the kitchen, her progress slowed by the headache pounding away in her skull. "Never again…" Grumbling to herself, Anna draws out a pitcher of cool, refreshing water from the fridge, finding a tall glass a moment later and pouring herself a drink. And one glass does not suffice, Anna surprising herself as she downs the whole glass of water in one go, pouring herself a second round when she finds her thirst isn't quite sated.

"I should… try to eat something… yeah…" Once she's drunk her fill, Anna finds her state noticeably improved and her appetite returning. Not by much, but it's a start. "Wait… coffee. That comes first." A smile touches her lips as she mutters to herself, a thought occurring to her a second later. "Huh… I'm glad no one's around to see me like this; they're like to think I'm going crazy, talking to myself so much…"

It doesn't take her long to brew herself a cup of the bitter black beverage, and soon Anna's sipping at a cup of coffee, the drink bearing no small amount of milk and sugar. A banana sits on the kitchen table in front of her, something she'd found as she went about preparing her drink. And now that she's steadily returning to a semblance of life, Anna's mind idly ponders why the house is so quiet, so empty.

"Oh… oh, damn…" It's only until she's about halfway through her cup that Anna remembers what it is that's been nagging at her; when she'd returned home last night, her father had been up waiting for her. Not that that's unusual, but his manner had struck her as odd, even in such a state as Anna had been; he'd smiled and led her to bed, even going so far as to tuck her in once she'd changed, something she hasn't experienced since she was a child. He'd said he loves her, and that he'll always love her.

"He… he's been talking about taking a trip, to get away for a while." Resting her forehead in her hand, Anna's mind begins to race as she tries to imagine what could have brought that behavior on, "But I always thought… he meant to visit New York for a time, or maybe another more exotic locale… could he have gone without saying goodbye? That doesn't sound like father…" Worry begins to take hold of Anna's heart, and the younger DeWitt shakes her head to keep it from getting the better of her.

But with the strange manner her father had exhibited last night, the growing amount of time he's been spending in his office of late, and now the recent talk of taking a trip, Anna can't help but get the feeling she's missing something. Something important, but what she hasn't the faintest idea.

"Hold on, Anna…" Chiding herself silently, Anna takes a deep breath to calm herself, "Just because you haven't seen father yet doesn't mean he's gone…" The thought gives her some measure of assurance, and Anna breathes another quiet sigh.

Still, despite the comforting thoughts, Anna quickly finishes her coffee and fruit, leaving both remains in the sink before stepping briskly out of the kitchen and towards the stairs. And the moment she takes the first step on the staircase, Anna's gaze is focused on the door to her father's office at the top, the place he's always spent so much time in.

"Father? Are you up there?" Calling out, Anna begins her ascent up the staircase, far more aware now than the last time she'd traversed the steps but also far more anxious, too. And when all that answers her call is silence, Anna hastens her pace.

She can feel her anxiety growing in the pit of her stomach the moment Anna reaches the painted white door, the nervousness causing her to hesitate when she reaches for the doorknob. Instead, she raps her knuckles against the wooden door, "Father?" No response to either the knock or call, and Anna takes hold of the doorknob as renewed worry grips her.

"Father, I'm coming in, al-huh?" It takes Anna a moment to realize what this resistance she feels as she turns the knob is, "It's locked…?" That doesn't help Anna's anxiety any; her father rarely ever locks his office.

"C'mon, c'mon…" Her surprise doesn't last long, and Anna's already hurrying to her father's bedroom; she knows where her father keeps the key, though he doesn't realize that yet. Still, it takes time finding it, and each second that passes only adds to Anna's growing concern.

"Where is it?" Searching the bottom drawer of the dresser, Anna frowns as she pushes aside a small pile of poorly folded socks; she knows it's in here somewhere. The backup key is always in the back left corner in an old envelope, not meant to be especially hard to find but somewhere that can be easily gotten to should it be needed. But the corner is empty, and Anna's beginning to feel panicked.

"Got it!" She practically runs back to the office door once she has her fingers around the key, the envelope having been shoved to the opposite side somehow. She has no idea why, but right now it doesn't matter. "Father?! Are you…?" Falling silent, Anna can only stare in disbelief as she steps into her father's office; the sight before her is disturbing to the younger DeWitt, she already upset by her own growing fears, and this just adds fuel to the fire. Anna feels her heart sink as she looks about the office slowly.

Her father's office is completely trashed and in total disarray; papers are strewn about the carpeted floor and even a couple of brand new looking voxophones lie among them. The flag of Columbia in the far corner has fallen to the floor, and the couch's cushions look to have been kicked off violently or something of the like. And the one thing she's been hoping to find in the office is nowhere to be found, neither hide nor hair of her father in sight. The sinking feeling only gets worse as she peers at the chaos.

Kneeling to retrieve a batch of papers at her feet, Anna's consternation grows even more; reading the first few pages as she kneels with the lower length of her robe puddled around her, Anna finds the papers to be in her father's handwriting. And while finding papers in her father's handwriting in his office isn't unusual in and of itself, the papers are anything but his normal fare; the pages are addressed to Booker DeWitt. The papers look to actually be letters, from the look of it, and each one details something of her father's life with a level of detail only he could know. "What… what is this?"

She'd been wondering what her father had been doing these past several months, but she hadn't paid it any mind at the time; she's had more pressing concerns at the time, and she seems to always have something important going on that required her attention.

Her father didn't have enough paperwork these days to warrant the time he had spent in his office, and she's been making damn sure he hadn't been peering through the space between worlds at that other woman in that other city; so far as she knows, her father has been true to his word and has kept from looking at the dark mirror of his wife and her mother. In fact, she's fairly certain her father hadn't been using the Lutece Array for much other than checking up on Elizabeth; she remembers very well the reunion between her sister and the little girl Sally, she and her father returning from their own Christmas festivities in time to witness the Luteces opening a Tear to the Little Sister.

"So where is he?" For all Anna knows, her father could have gotten drunk and torn up the place before leaving their home; she wasn't in much of a state to notice such a racket at the time, not after her own bout with too much drink. "If… if something worse happened, I'm sure the Luteces would have appeared by now… right?"

Taking a deep breath, Anna rises slowly and drops the papers, "I should go look for father…" Clinging to the small hope that he's only gone off somewhere, Anna turns and briskly steps away from the office and down the stairs, the brunette almost out the doors when a thought crosses her mind, "Uh, after I get cleaned up and put on some clothes…"

* * *

5:10 PM

The streets of Emporia have never felt as empty to Anna as it does today, the setting sun casting long, deep shadows and cloaking her in their depths as she trudges up an incline towards home. It's been a long day for her, and while Anna is not out of shape by any stretch of the imagination, she's still not used to having been on her feet for so long; she's more than a little sore, her feet and lower back in particular. She's glad she chose some reasonable shoes for this outing, though her long, dark dress of black and gray proved to be a bit problematic with the heat. How was she to know it'd be so hot today in the middle of winter?

And despite her efforts, everything Anna's done today has been futile; she's visited each and every place she thought he might have gone to, and even a few suggested to her by friends of her father, yet she still hasn't the faintest idea where he could have gone. It'd been a long and increasingly frustrating process, and now Anna's torn between the need for rest and a desire to keep looking.

Her first stop had been the quiet little cemetery where her mother rests, but there hadn't been a single person on the small, grassy green field or among the headstones. She'd stopped at the short, wrought iron fence and stared within, her gaze gravitating to the hilltop where the red oak stands beside her mother's grave.

Afterwards, she'd gone to whatever location she thought might have interested her father: Anna went to the Capital building next, thinking her father might have need of speaking with Daisy or the other members of the Council; after that, she'd gone to Slate's office at the headquarters of the Columbian Police, the old war veteran saying he hasn't seen her father in quite some time. But then the older man had voiced concern over her father being missing, asking her if she thinks her father has gone missing.

"I couldn't involve any of them… especially not now." With the possibility that her father had gone through a Tear to another world becoming a very real possibility, Anna doesn't know how she could possibly explain everything that such an undertaking can entail. Slate and the populace in general know nothing of Tear travel, and it's best to keep things that way. In any other situation, her best bet now would have been to return to Slate and ask him to investigate, but she simply has no recourse if Tears truly are involved in this.

After visiting an out of the way tavern Slate had suggested she should check, Anna had been left with no choice but to return home; she'd nowhere else to look, not a single place she'd thought to search for her father left unchecked and Anna now completely out of ideas. And so she returned to the place she began her search, the cemetery cast in shadows by the setting sun when she arrived.

This time, Anna had stepped onto the lush grass and climbed the hill, despite her aching feet; she needed to talk to someone, anyone, who she could be straight with. And the best she could do then was to speak to her mother, her fears for her father such that she has to let it all out or be reduced to a nervous wreck.

Now she feels drained, much as she had been when she'd woken this morning but to a greater extent, and Anna's feet slow as her home comes into view; the house she shares with her father rests at the top of this hill in Emporia, affording them a beautiful view of the city whenever they chose to enjoy it. But now all she sees as she looks up at the house is a place of foreboding; her only hope now is that her father had returned home before her, and that her fears have been unfounded.

"Hello? Father, are you here?" Stepping into the darkened home, Anna calls out into the shadows while hoping to hear something, anything that would lead her to believe her father is somewhere within. But all that greets her is silence and darkness, Anna's hopes collapsing as she stands in the doorway. "Maybe… maybe he's resting… yeah, we've both had a long day, and he could be asleep by now."

Stepping into her home with as light a step as she can manage, Anna climbs slowly towards her father's office and bedroom, listening intently and making as little sound as she can manage. As always, light filters into the house from the various windows, her father's office in particular lit up by the last rays of the setting sun, Anna having left the door open when she'd run out of the house earlier today.

But when she approaches her father's bedroom door, Anna's heart sinks again; she doesn't hear a sound coming from within. Even if he had returned and went straight to bed, Anna would still be able to make out his breathing now that she's so close. "He's not here…" Tears begin to well up in her eyes as she realizes she's still all alone, Anna shaking her head and blinking quickly to keep from crying outright. "There's… there's only one thing to do, isn't there?"

Returning to the office with her gait slow and listless, Anna frowns as she looks around the disturbed room again; the sun is just about set, and the room is quickly growing dark. Whatever happened in here has something to do with her father's disappearance, and Anna is going to figure out just what it was; flicking the light switch, Anna begins to gather the strewn about papers and place them on the desk, only managing to bring herself to read them once they're all collected and she's seated in her father's chair.

"This one is about father's political career… how much he hated using his 'fame' to advance his goals…" Skimming each page, Anna grows more and more concerned as she goes, "This is… about Wounded Knee. And this is… me…" The last is actually several pages, the details of her birth and life laid out on paper briefly, but a smile still tugs at Anna's lips whenever she sees mention of something particularly heartwarming or nostalgic.

But the only conclusion she can draw from reading the papers is that her father had been preparing for whatever had happened for a good while now, probably the last several months. And there are only two possible reasons that she can imagine such preparation would be needed for; either her father is preparing to write his memoirs, or he had been planning to step through a Tear. And given his disappearance, the former seems far less likely than the latter. Anna can only groan as her worst fears are all but confirmed, she resting her eyes in the palms of her hands as she's finally forced to face the truth that she'd known all this time.

"Father was preparing for a bout with Tear sickness, or so it seems. But…" Looking around the room and recalling what she can of the ravages of what one's first step through a Tear can inflict, Anna's fears begin to form a knot in the pit of her stomach, "But this is all wrong… something definitely went wrong here. How could… would my father even attempt such a thing on his own?" Lifting her head from her hands, Anna peers at the pair of voxophones still sitting on the floor; she'd left them where they lay, Anna not sure if she could stand to hear her father's voice without breaking down in tears.

"The Tear sickness wouldn't let him return on his own… and he can't have gone there from here…" Anna and her father hadn't managed to come up with a way to open a Lutece Field or Tear in the office, the pair still needing to trek down to the basement to provide any assistance to Elizabeth. "So why would father leave these papers here if he had to pass through down below? Unless…"

"Yes, it is as you surmise."

"Robert…" Turning in the chair to find the Lutece twins standing just inside the office doorway, Anna isn't sure if she should feel relieved at their presence or furious at what she suspects is their hand in all this, "Where is my father?"

"We… aren't certain." Rosalind admits slowly, and Anna can only stare blankly at the two of them; the Luteces both look more than a little put out, a state she's never seen them in. But the lady scientist's answer doesn't please Anna, not in the slightest.

"Your father had requested our assistance, and was rather insistent." Explaining, Robert glances about the room before looking back to Anna, "He wasn't about to risk his city or you on this endeavor, and he meant for us to take him to another world at a later date, but for now…" The male Lutece falls silent for a moment, looking to his sister.

"He desired to overcome Tear sickness, and had prepared for as such." Finishing her brother's explanation, Rosalind frowns as she does. "But when we returned him to your home and played the voxophones he'd prepared, your father… reacted violently. He ran from us while hemorrhaging from the nose."

"And with our abilities in this world muted, we… lost him." Robert finishes, sounding more than a little hesitant.

"You lost him… you lost him!?" Bursting up from the chair, Anna storms up to the Luteces, her earlier thoughts on whether to be relieved or furious now answered, "How? Why did you even… why did you let my father do something so dangerous?! And… and where did you take him?!"

"He would have undertaken the task himself, if we refused to help." Rosalind starts, a glare from Anna silencing her. "And he meant to visit another Columbia, and would have required our help for that, as well."

"Indeed. And it would have been far more perilous should he have done so." Robert adds, and a scowl quickly crosses Anna's features. "And he wanted to prepare himself for the journey to that Columbia."

"Is he… is he alright?"

"The last we saw of him, he was in good health, aside from the hemorrhaging." Robert nods, the twins actually looking a little abashed, "But his mind is… rather in shambles, I would say."

"And he is somewhere in this world, of this we are certain." Adding that last part quickly, Rosalind takes a step closer to Anna, "Perhaps you should ask for the assistance of the local constabulary?"

"No!" Snapping at Rosalind, Anna steps away slowly from the twins and crosses her arms, scowling again, "How can I? Tear sickness… my father would look as if he's gone insane. If I go to Slate, it would become a major undertaking… and word of his condition would get out. Do you realize how many people would become uneasy should they hear that the Founder is having issues with his sanity?"

"I suppose you have a point..." Robert speaks up.

"But what shall you do about his disappearance? The longer he is gone…" Rosalind continues her brother's statement.

"The more likely he is to be discovered, and the same effect will come to pass." Now Robert speaks, finishing his sister's statement.

"I… I need someone to help me find him. Someone who is skilled at finding those who are missing or don't want to be found… and someone who understands the… tender mercies of Tear sickness…" A grim smile touches Anna's lips as an idea occurs to her, and she turns back to the twins. "And I'll need your help, to find the sort of person I'll need."

* * *

**Author's Note: Tear sickness can be very unpredictable, can't it? There's plenty of problems that can come about regardless of how well you plan. Well, this chapter's been entirely from Anna's perspective, but I'm hoping the next chapter will catch more than a little interest. And I'm fairly certain it doesn't take much of a stretch of the imagination to figure who Anna's talking about at the very end, but who do you think she's speaking of? **

**Not much else to say, but feel free to let me know what you think, and I'll be touching up the chapter here and there should I see a need for it. Thanks for reading, and I hope you enjoyed the chapter.**


	8. Booker And Anna

**Foreword: Just a quick mention, this chapter starts immediately after the first section of I'm Home's chapter 25.**

* * *

February 3, 1896, 12:20 PM

"What can I do for you, Miss…?"

"Ah…" The hesitation in the woman's voice causes Booker to narrow his eyes at her suspiciously; she's hiding plenty, that much is plain to see, and Booker doesn't like where this is going. It's bad enough he can't see her face, and Booker peers at his would-be client; her complexion is fair, and he notices a lock of dark brown hair that'd slipped from beneath her floppy brimmed, oversized hat.

"That's the most ridiculous outfit I've seen in a good while…" Booker frowns at the thought, he still waiting for the woman to respond. As far as he can tell, she's older than he is, though probably not in her thirties yet.

"… I suppose you'll have to find out sooner or later…" The woman heaves a quiet sigh, resignation plain in her voice. Tentatively, she takes hold of the floppy brim of her hat and pulls it away, only opening her eyes once the ridiculous looking hat is on her lap.

"… the hell?" Booker finds he can barely get the words out as he locks eyes with the older woman; those deep blue eyes, the shape of her face, even her hair, though it's tied up in a bun is all too familiar to him. "… Elizabeth?"

"No, it's me, Anna…" A smile touches her lips, and Booker recalls something very similar that Elizabeth had said to him, back in Columbia and right after she'd fished him out of the water at Battleship Bay.

"Why… how…?" Booker doesn't know what to say as the almost spitting image of Elizabeth shifts uncomfortably in her seat, the sudden appearance of this adult Anna leaving him dumbstruck. And it takes him a good while to regain his composure, though his voice is still quiet after sitting there in silence, "What's wrong, Anna?"

"Booker… I need your help… to find my father." Anna looks up after another second of silence, her blue eyes bearing a look of determination in them, "To find my world's Booker DeWitt. He's… he's been missing since yesterday morning, and I've… I've had no luck finding him on my own."

"Why don't you just go to the police? I don't suppose New York coppers inspire much confidence, but…"

"It's… not that simple… and we don't live in New York, Booker." A wry smile touches Anna's lips, Booker wondering just what she means by that. "I can't let it get out that my father has gone missing… and if I went to the police, it would get out of hand rather quickly…"

"I don't get your meaning, Anna." Leaning back against the sofa, Booker's mind still reels with everything that's happened in the last few minutes. Perhaps focusing on the job might keep him grounded, and Booker pushes questions of this Anna's origins and how she got here from his mind.

"Booker… my father is suffering from Tear sickness." Another smile touches Anna's lips, but this one is anything but happy, "He had prepared for it, written letters to himself and recorded the most important parts that he needed to remember, but… something went wrong. He fled… and they couldn't stop him…."

She looks on the verge of tears, but Anna just shakes her head and continues, "So… to find my father, I thought it best to ask for the assistance of someone who knows Booker DeWitt and had experienced the… tender mercies of Tear sickness as well. Hence why I am here."

"Alright." Booker takes a deep breath as he thinks on what Anna asks of him. "Huh… hold up a… Anna, how did you recover from Tear sickness so quickly, if your Booker disappeared yesterday?"

"I… made my own recording… and I had some help."

"Help, huh?" Booker's eyes narrow again; he's fairly certain who this 'help' is. But that doesn't matter right now; though she's older than he and from another world, this is still Anna asking for his help, "Alright. I'll take the job."

"You will?" Another smile blossoms, Anna wearing an expression of immense relief, "Oh, thank you… we should… we should go then… I don't want to risk Elizabeth returning while you're still gone."

"Wait, how do you know Elizabeth?" But Booker doesn't get an answer, Anna rising as a Tear opens behind her and stepping through. Booker stares at the hole in the world, a sigh escaping him as he slowly rises, "Ah, hell… best get this over with."

* * *

February 3, 1922, 12:35 PM

Stepping out of the Tear, Booker finds himself in a spacious living room, the ex-Pinkerton peering around the room to get a feel for his surroundings as the doorway between worlds closes behind him. A solid looking door with an oddly familiar pattern stands before him, narrow, curtain covered windows on either side; the front door, judging by the light slipping in through the fanciful curtains. An open door on Booker's right reveals the home's kitchen, while another on his left leads to a dining room.

"Excuse me, Booker, but I'm going to get changed."

"Huh?" Turning only to find Anna climbing a flight of stairs, Booker scratches his head in confusion, "Why'd you even put on that getup if you're only going to change when you got back?"

She stops at the top of the stairs and leans on the second floor railing, a grin tugging at her lips, "I couldn't very well take the chance that I'd bump into Elizabeth and that she might recognize me. This," tugging at the shoulder of her loose fitting dress, "is the style right now, but it just isn't me…"

"Wait, how would Elizabeth…" But Anna's already disappeared into the second floor hallway, leaving Booker's question hanging, "… recognize you? Ah, well… guess I'll just relax…"

Taking a seat on a blue gray sofa, Booker breathes a quiet sigh as the gravity of his situation finally dawns upon him; he'd stepped through another Tear, to who knows where. And for a girl he barely knows, too.

"Finished." Anna reappears just as Booker begins to wonder what's keeping her, the grown up counterpart to his baby girl smiling at him from the second floor, "Thanks for waiting; could you join me up here?"

"Sure…" Rising from the sofa, Booker feels a strange sense of déjà vu coming on as he climbs the staircase; Anna's wearing a deep blue, long-sleeved blouse and a white skirt with a blue hem, looking all the world like a color swapped duplicate of Elizabeth's blouse and skirt outfit. But as he draws closer, Booker notices several small differences that banish the feeling of déjà vu, and he can't help but chuckle, "Just my imagination…"

"Hmm?"

"Ah, nothing. What now?" Booker just shakes his head once he's reached the second floor.

"Well… there's plenty that needs explaining… but let's start with my father's office." Anna smiles nervously as she speaks, and she slips past Booker to step into the door closest to the staircase, "My father, he went to the baptism after Wounded Knee, like you did… and he rejected it, the same as you…"

Booker grimaces as he steps into the office, the mention of that bloodbath bringing back terrible memories and the guilt that comes with them. But the grimace disappears as he spies something he hadn't expected to see; though it looks a little different than he remembers, Booker still recognizes the flag of Columbia, resting in the far corner of the room right beside the flag of the United States. "But my father went on to become a politician… and eventually, he founded this city." Anna comes to a stop by the window opposite the door, motioning for him to join her, "Booker, I'd like to introduce you to my father's Columbia."

Stepping up beside her with equal parts trepidation and suspicion, Booker peers out the window after giving Anna a questioning glance. "Is that… a lighthouse?" There is no Monument Tower in the center of the city, a massive lighthouse in its place. "Always a lighthouse…"

"And a man, and a city." Anna adds quietly, the brunette combing her fingers through her long dark hair, "The only Founder in this Columbia is my father, and he hates being called that, even if it is only an honorary title."

"Huh… what… what year is it?"

"It's… February 1922, Booker."

Booker has to let that sink in for a while, and he turns his attention back to the view of the city; he'd never expected this job to take him back to Columbia. Hell, he never expected to return to Columbia in the first place, much less one that was home to another him and another Anna. How can he be sure this Columbia is any different from Comstock's?

"Booker?"

"Just… give me a minute." Booker shakes his head; he'll get to the bottom of this, sooner or later. "Okay… Anna, how did you and your father attempt to overcome Tear sickness? Sounds to me like the two of you did this separately."

"That would be with our assistance."

"Ah, hell… Lutece." A scowl crosses Booker's face as he turns back towards the door, the Lutece twins having appeared there. Robert bows his head in his usual manner.

"Yeah… I was furious with them when I found out…" Anna massages the bridge of her nose as she breathes a sigh, "And before you ask, no, they can't find him. Something about this world seems to… diminish their abilities."

"Huh… go figure…" Stepping up to the Luteces, Booker keeps his voice low, "I need a straight answer here; is this Columbia anything like Comstock's?"

"Aside from the fact the city is floating among the clouds?" Rosalind starts, and Booker breathes an exasperated sigh.

"No, it isn't." Robert finishes, keeping his reply succinct.

"Huh… guess I'll just have to see for myself." Stepping away from the Luteces and returning to the window, Booker gives Anna a sideways glance, "Alright, let's go find your father. But you'll have to fill me in on the way on a couple matters."

"Such as?" A relived smile crosses Anna's face, and she nods even before Booker can answer.

"About your Columbia, your Booker… that's just for starters…"

* * *

"Huh…" Booker scratches his head as he and Anna walk down a cobbled Emporia street, letting everything she'd told him settle in his mind. What he's seen while out and about has only helped to reinforce the brunette's story; he'd never expect to see well-to-do individuals of non-white descent in Emporia, the differences between this and Comstock's Columbia becoming more and more clear.

Anna had explained her father's purpose in building this Columbia, the nature of the city and its relationship with the Union, as well as a little on several prominent individuals that Booker had dealings with in the other Columbias. And Booker can't help but notice the looks he'd received whenever a passerby came close.

"I take it your father's a familiar face around here. How widespread do you figure that is?"

"Umm… ten years ago, I doubt there'd be anyone in Columbia who wouldn't recognize him. Now, I'd guess mostly the middle-class on up?" Anna shrugs, the brunette giving him a smile.

"Alright… figure that if anyone like that found him, we'd know it by now. Suppose we should start asking around, and head for someplace a cargo barge might dock. I'm suspecting he didn't leave Emporia by gondola. Too many people at a station, somebody would've seen him."

"I… never thought of that…" Nodding slowly, a wry smile teases at Anna's lips, "Seems I made the right choice, coming to you for help."

Anna steers Booker towards a dock where cargo barges offload produce and merchandise for the shops in Emporia, the pair getting a fair share of odd looks along the way, the cause of which is plainly apparent to the both of them; despite the difference in years, Booker's still Booker.

It's not until they start approaching the well-concealed warehouse and distribution center in the heart of Emporia's commercial center that someone stops them, a bespectacled elderly gentleman, "Excuse me, sir, but… are you Founder DeWitt?"

"Oh, no! This is my, uh…" Anna looks up at Booker for a second, a touch of panic in her blue eyes.

"I'm Booker DeWitt's nephew." Booker nods slowly as he offers the older man his hand, "Came to Columbia to visit with my uncle and cousin." Booker's lie comes easily, but he realizes he's hit a small snag a moment later; he needs a name. "The name's… Jack." Inwardly, Booker hopes Jack doesn't mind the borrowing of his name.

"Oh… pleasure to make your acquaintance then, Jack DeWitt. I never knew the Founder had any family other than Anna." The older man nods as he shakes the offered hand, Booker inwardly wincing at how his suddenly assumed name sounds, "It is uncanny how much you look like him…"

"Hey, maybe you can help us." Booker quickly changes the subject, hoping to get out of this conversation, "We're looking for my uncle; he was supposed to meet us, but it seems he's forgotten." The older man just shrugs and shakes his head. "Well, thanks anyway, pal."

The story repeats itself over and over as the pair makes their way to the cargo dock, both his explanation of his identity and the inquiry as to if anyone's seen Founder DeWitt. Most seem perfectly content to answer whatever questions he and Anna ask, but they're nowhere closer to an answer than when they'd started. That is, until they're practically on the dock itself, the workers stopping to stare at Booker and Anna when they arrive.

"Hey, buddy, you seen anyone around here lately that looks like me? Older guy, graying hair?" A man in overalls and wearing a cap stops what he's doing when Booker and Anna approaches, the ex-Pinkerton speaking up before the worker can.

"Founder DeWitt? No… uh… I might've seen someone like that…" The worker scratches his head, looking a little confused; he recognizes Anna, and Booker too, by the looks of it. "It was early in the morning yesterday, but an older fella came staggering in here… he didn't respond when we called out to him, and he stumbled onto a cargo barge that was just taking off…"

"Guessed as much." Glancing over at Anna, Booker lets a lopsided grin tug at his features. "Any idea which barge he climbed onto?"

"That one." The worker points towards a particular barge, and Booker's grin fades the moment he lays eyes on it; the logo prominently displayed on the side of the cargo barge and on the containers loaded upon the hovercraft is one he's all too familiar with.

"Fink. Of course it would be Fink."

* * *

3:20 PM

"Here we are…" Anna whispers quietly, the brunette looking more than a little uncomfortable. "Columbia's industrial district. And there's Fink's factory."

"It's not as gaudy as in Comstock's Columbia." Grimacing as he looks upon the factory from his place at the gondola's railing, Booker shakes his head, remembering the giant golden statues of Fink he'd seen on his last trip to Columbia. "Guess he hasn't done as well for himself, what without lunatics like Comstock and the Founders."

"My father made sure of that… he never liked Fink, and neither have I. And after watching what the two of you went through, our opinion of the man only got worse."

"Watching…?" Glancing sideways at Anna again, Booker keeps quiet as he mulls over what she means by that. But he's got a job to do, and his questions can wait for now. "So… how do you mean for us to get into the factory?"

"Huh?" Anna turns to face him, "Well… I suppose they won't just let us walk in and start poking around the place… we'd probably be stopped by one of Fink's cronies."

"You got that right…" Nodding slowly as the gondola pulls into the station, Booker follows Anna off the hovercraft and into the industrial district proper. "It's going to be a problem, but it's nothing I can't fix…" The two of them walk in silence as they make their way to Fink's factory, Booker noticing that none of the workers they pass give them so much as a glance.

It's not until they're practically standing before the employee entrance to the factory that Booker gets an idea, a grin tugging again at his features, "Hey, Anna… follow me, we're going to take a detour…" There aren't many workers going in and out of the factory, and the entrance is completely unmanned.

"Where to?" Anna glances up at him quizzically.

"Need to blend in, don't want to attract any more attention than we need to." Leading Anna into the factory, Booker peers around every corner as they proceed, making sure there's no one in their path before heading down each corridor and hallway; Booker's got his revolver in his side holster, but he doubts a gunshot will go unnoticed in this place. And it takes them a short while to find what they're looking for; an employee locker room, completely empty but bearing a musty odor that makes Anna hold a sleeve up to her nose.

"Here." Digging through locker after locker, Booker finds a pair of spare worker overalls and shirts, handing the smaller of the two to Anna, "Uh… mind the smell…" A grin tugs at his features again as Anna dons the shirt and overalls, the brunette frowning a little as her head pokes out of the brown and white striped shirt.

"Alright… let's get this over with…" Looking more than a little uncomfortable in the still too large shirt and overalls, Anna glances back at Booker, "How're you going to hide your gun?"

"Huh? Oh…" Glancing down at the weapon, Booker stops just before he pulls the straps of the overalls onto his shoulders, "That'd be tough to explain away…" Grimacing a little, Booker pulls the borrowed shirt off before putting his side holsters back on, covering them with shirt and feeling a mite ridiculous; how's he supposed to reach his revolver with it buried under the shirt and overalls like this?

"You'll fit right in, Booker." Anna chuckles at the unhappy look on Booker's face, the brunette tying her long hair into a loose ponytail before donning a cap she'd found, "Don't know if I will, though…"

"Ah, just keep your head down." Shrugging, Booker steps towards the locker room door, "C'mon, let's get a move on."

"Hey, who're you?" A voice calls out the moment they step out of the locker room, Booker whipping about to see one of Fink's guards moving in their direction.

"We're, ah… damn…" Cursing beneath his breath, Booker whispers to Anna, "Stay behind me, I'll get us out of this." Turning back to the guard, Booker shouts, "Ah, we're only…!"

"It's against company policy to take unscheduled breaks! Get back to work, before I put you on report!"

"Alright, we're going, fella!" Hurrying in the opposite direction, Booker breathes a quiet sigh as he glances back over his shoulder, the thug turning the other way, "That was too damn close."

"You don't have to tell me…" Breathing a heavy sigh of her own, Anna shakes her head, "Thanks."

"Don't mention it."

It doesn't take long for the two of them to find the factory center, the groaning and humming of machines leading them to a cavernous room filled with workers. None of the workers seem to pay them any mind, and Booker can't help but remember how Fink's employees were treated. And how that especially gave rise to the Vox Populi.

Eventually, rumors and hearsay lead Booker and Anna to a secured area, the pair stopping at a corner to peer at the armed guards flanking the security door. They look no better than the thugs Booker faced at the docks in Fink's factory. "You have any ideas on how to get in there?" Glancing back at Anna, Booker finds a look of concern on the older woman's face.

"No… I, uh… I don't suppose you do, either?" Glancing up at him, Anna frowns as Booker shakes his head, "I suppose we don't have much choice, do we?" That draws a smile from Booker, and the pair start striding over to the door and the guards.

"Hold up there, fella." One of the guards holds up a hand, his other on the grip of a pistol in his belt, "What business do you ha-grk!"

Booker's fist slamming into the thug's jaw silences him, a crack sounding as the burly man drops to his knees; his attack catches both of them by surprise, the second guard scrambling to draw his weapon. But a kick to the shins on Anna's part slows him down, the brunette following up with a knee to his gut to double the guard over, finally hammering on the back of his neck with both hands clasped together and knocking him to the ground. Much to Booker's surprise, "How the hell did you manage that?"

"Hey, I'm a DeWitt." Anna chuckles, holding her hands up as she shrugs, "When I was a schoolgirl, I got into plenty of scrapes, and I've occasionally had reason to use those skills over the years. So I've made sure to at least keep in shape."

"Great." Groaning, Booker shakes his head as he pulls open the security door, "Guess I'll have that to look forward to when my Anna grows up." Anna only chuckles, following him through the door.

Inside, the pair find themselves in a laboratory of some sort, not all that different from the hidden lab that Booker had seen in his nightmare and later visited himself. Luckily, there are plenty of workers in here as well, and they manage to proceed without any further incident. That is, until something all too familiar catches Booker's eye.

In the back of the lab, both Booker and Anna notice it as they step through a door leading into what looks like an administrator's office, the floors made of fine red-brown wood and the walls covered in new, green with gold wallpaper. But where the desk would have been is now occupied by a contraption of metal and cables. "Son of a bitch…" Anna curses quietly, Booker nodding in agreement, "That's… that's a Lutece Device." And standing before it is Fink himself, a trio of scientists or engineers tinkering with the device.

"That's it… lock the door behind us." Starting for the center of the room, Booker reaches under his stolen shirt and takes hold of his revolver, drawing it slowly. "Fink!"

"Huh? Who are you, to barge in…?! W-What? Founder?" Fink whirls about as Booker shouts, the man's eyes flashing with anger until he gets a good look at him. "This isn't possible… guards! Guar-"

"They aren't coming. You've got a lot to answer for, Fink!" Anna follows close behind Booker once the 'click' of the door lock sounds, the brunette pulling the cap off her head as she snarls at the mustachioed industrialist, "What the hell have you done with my father?!"

"And Miss Anna, too?!" Fink's backing away quickly as the pair storm up to him, his eyes quickly focusing on the revolver in Booker's hand, "I… I didn't do anything! He was out of his mind with fever, we just…"

"Just pumped him for information while he wasn't right in the head?" Booker grabs Fink by the tie and slams him against one of the supports of the Lutece Device, growling at the weasel, "Where the hell is he, Fink? And how did you get this built in a day?"

"The Founder…" One of Fink's employees sputters frantically, a balding man who's backed into a corner of the room, "He told… told us about this device! He said that Lutece made it, that there were… pieces and designs in her lab!"

"You bastard…" Glaring at Fink, Anna curses through grit teeth, "You did take advantage of my father while he was sick!"

"No! I assure you, Miss Anna, I was only trying to he-gah!" Fink's cut off by the barrel of Booker's revolver being shoved against his throat, the ex-Pinkerton more than willing to pull the trigger.

"Booker, no…" Shaking her head, Anna affixes her now steely gaze upon Fink, "Where is my father, Fink? Tell me now, and I promise that there will only be minor charges levied against you."

"The… the Founder… when we activated the device, he suddenly woke, and…" The terror in Fink's eyes only grows as he speaks, "He ran into the portal that appeared… to another city…"

"No… you didn't…" The fury in Anna's voice is gone and replaced by terror, the brunette dashing to the controls only to return a moment later, "You didn't open a Tear to another Columbia… right?"

* * *

**Author's Note: Well, here's what happened to Booker while Elizabeth was out with Ms. Pearl and Anna in I'm Home Ch. 25. For the record, a 'flapper' is a type of women's dress from the 20s, and it was what I was trying to describe in that chapter. So now Booker is in Columbia again, and things can only go downhill from here, can't it? Oh, and who can tell me they didn't wish they had a chance to punch Fink in the face?**

**As usual, I'll be making checks later for inconsistencies and errors at a later date. The rest of Booker's time in Columbia will be covered in the next chapter here, but we'll be moving ahead in the next chapter of I'm Home. Thanks for reading, and I hope you enjoyed the chapter.**


	9. A Case Of Two Cities

February 3, 1922, 4:05 PM

"This can't be happening…" Anna mutters to herself as she rests on the office sofa, icing her aching hand; when Fink had frantically confirmed her worst fears about the destination the Lutece Device was set to, Anna just snapped.

She'd already been furious with the little weasel for taking advantage of her father as he suffered from Tear sickness, and learning that Fink may have put the entire city at risk by doing the one thing Rosalind Lutece had warned against pushed Anna over the edge. She'd balled her hand into a fist and lashed out as fiercely as she could, catching Fink square on the jaw and knocking the man out cold. But here's the kicker; her hand also feels like she damn near broke something.

"You doing alright, Miss DeWitt?"

"I'm fine, officer. Thanks for your concern." Anna smiles up at the police officer, the clean-shaven young man looking like he's fresh out of school; she'd called Captain Slate after knocking Fink out, and now a handful of police officers have occupied this section of Fink's factory. For now, the police have taken the horrid industrialist into custody, though more than a few of them had stopped to stare at Booker.

"And Slate's due to arrive shortly…" The thought draws a grimace across Anna's face, the junior officer giving her a worried look before she waves him away.

"Young miss!"

"Speak of the devil…" Climbing to her feet, Anna manages a smile as Captain Cornelius Slate comes barging through the office door, the elderly man moving quickly despite his age. "It's good to see you, Captain."

"Always a pleasure, Anna… but for God's sake, what's going through your head? An injured hand is the least that could happen to you, sneaking about a place like this on your own!" Slate brings a hand up to cover his good eye as he shakes his head.

"I'm fine, and I didn't come alone." Anna smiles back at Slate, taking the bag of ice from her hand and testing it slowly, "See? All better."

"So I see… I heard you brought along a cousin or some such. Didn't know you and Booker had kin…"

"Heh… kin, huh?" Booker's voice stops Slate cold, and now Anna brings a hand up to cover her eyes and shakes her head; her father's other self steps around the Lutece Device, Booker having been leaning against the room's far corner to avoid any more attention. "You look like you've seen a ghost, Slate."

"B-Booker…?" Slate stammers as his one blue eye goes wide. But to his credit, the old soldier manages to regain his composure after only a moment, he quickly shaking his head and barking at the police officers, "Everyone out, right now!"

It takes a moment or two for the handful of officers to drop what they're doing and depart, and Anna can only glance back and forth between Booker and Slate, the former standing beside the Lutece Device with his arms crossed while the latter wears an expression of disbelief and utter surprise. "Captain, I can explain…"

"Maybe you can, Miss Anna, maybe… but I'd like to hear it from your… 'cousin'…" Slate starts the moment the last of his men have left the office and the door's closed behind them, his gaze fixed on Booker, "You… you're not the Booker I know, are you."

"Not exactly." Stepping away from the Lutece Device, Booker uncrosses his arms and shrugs, "There's a Slate where I come from, too… still got both his eyes, and his hair."

"Captain!" Anna grabs ahold of Slate's shoulder, getting the old soldier's attention, "We don't have time for this; listen, this Booker's helping me find my father, and now…" Anna falters, and she needs a moment to take a breath and compose herself, "We need to go through that, and when we do… I'd like you to dismantle it, take it back to the Lutece Lab…" She points to the Lutece Device, not taking her gaze from Slate for even a second.

"Dismantle it?! How do you figure you'll be getting back then?"

"We'll find a way. Booker's actually quite good at this sort of thing." Grinning up at Slate, Anna tries to appear confident despite feeling anything but, "My father's on the other side, and it's best that just the two of us go after him. Fink… the weasel put us all at risk with this machine, it needs to be taken apart.

"… alright, little miss…" Nodding slowly, Slate reluctantly agrees before turning back to Booker, "Corporal DeWitt! I'm putting Anna's safety in your hands. She gets hurt, and we'll be having words."

With that, Slate turns and marches out the door, leaving Anna alone with Booker and the Lutece Device. "The man never changes… still half a fool, half a hero." Booker shakes his head, turning to Anna once he's finished, "Anna, are you sure you want to do this?"

"Don't have much choice…" Retrieving the cap she'd used to hide her features, Anna pulls it on as Booker returns to the Lutece Device's control panel, "I'm alright… I just never thought I'd be going to another Columbia…" Anna frowns as she stuffs her loose ponytail into the cap to further conceal herself.

"Never imagined it myself, much less twice in one day." Gripping the lever on the panel, Booker glances over to Anna, "You ready for this?"

"I am." The Tear bursts into existence a second later, Anna having to stifle a yelp; Tears themselves aren't much cause for concern to Anna, she deals with them via the Array at home frequently. But it's where this Tear leads that's troublesome, and she has to take a deep breath as she and Booker step up to the shimmering portal. "Well, here goes nothing…" A chuckle comes from Booker as they step through, Anna playing with her ponytail nervously as they go.

* * *

Booker's chuckle fades with the closing of the Tear, the ex-Pinkerton finding himself surrounded by dust covered boxes in a dark storeroom. A quiet cough comes from his left, Booker glancing over to Anna to catch her covering her nose with her sleeve, the older counterpart of his daughters recoiling a moment later; they're both still clad in their stolen workers garb, neither outfit smelling particularly pleasant.

"Where are we?" Grimacing, Anna glances up at him as she whispers.

"I'd imagine we're in the same place, just this Columbia's version of the room." Peering through the gloom, Booker spots the door after a few seconds, motioning for Anna to follow as he creeps towards it. "Let's get out of here."

The door opens into a brightly lit cavernous room just as in the other Columbia, and Booker groans softly as he steps out into the light; the hallway's the same as all the other's he's seen in Finkton and Fink's factory, the yellow orange walls and brass pipes reminding Booker of all the other occasions he'd visited this place, albeit in different Columbias entirely.

"So… where should we start?" Anna steps up beside him, she pulling her cap low to hide her face, "I… I can't imagine where my father could have gone…"

"Really…" Something in Anna's voice tells Booker she's hiding something, the former False Shepherd narrowing his eyes suspiciously at her. But this isn't the time or place, "Guess we should ask around, see if anyone's noticed a strange fella wandering about. Your father can't have been here for more than a few hours."

"I hope you're right…" Nodding slowly, Anna sticks close as Booker starts across the factory floor. It doesn't take long for the two of them to find some signs of life; the layout is much the same as in the other factory they'd made their way through, the pair finding several workers in the next room, clustered around an assembly line. A dirty calendar on the wall shows it's November, 1913.

"Hey, buddy." Booker calls out without warning and approaches the closest, Anna falling a half step behind in surprise, "You see anyone strange around here lately? Older guy, graying hair, dark suit?"

"I didn't see nothing, friend." The grungy worker doesn't even look up from his station, and Booker feels a scowl coming on; Fink's personal 'work ethic' at work, Booker recalling the other Finks he'd met and how downtrodden his workers were. Until the Vox Populi revolted.

"Well, that was helpful." Anna grins as she whispers, Booker just shrugging, "Let's keep at it, alright? I'll help-"

"Not a chance, too dangerous." Booker shakes his head, "Let me do the talking for now."

"Alright…"

And so it goes, Booker asking each and every one of the dozen workers in turn. And each of them to the man say they didn't see anyone or anything, a few casting questioning glances Anna's way instead and forcing Booker to hurry on to the next one whenever a worker started eyeing her.

"Hey! What in the Prophet's name are you two doing down there?!"

"Ah, hell…" A scowl darkens Booker's features as a man he can only figure is the foreman climbs down a set of metal stairs set into the side of the room overlooking the assembly line, the ex-Pinkerton only now noticing what must be the supervisor's office built into and halfway up the yellow-orange wall. "Anna, stay behind me… sorry, boss! We were just-"

"Killing time, huh? Don't you know how to read, boy?!" The foreman storms up to Booker, a heavyset balding man with a beady eyes and glasses, his face flushed beet red, "Haven't you seen the signs posted everywhere? 'Killing time kills Columbia.' Now get back to work; 'address your orders promptly or find your contract terminated, and-"

"And your living quarters reassigned, I got it." Booker would like nothing better than to clock this pompous ass, but that won't help their purpose here any.

"Boss, he was asking if we saw anyone strange lately." The worker Booker had last questioned pipes up.

"Really, huh?" The foreman stops for a moment, narrowing his eyes, "If you have time to gossip, you have time to work. Get back to it!" The bald man stomps away, still fuming as he goes, and Booker's glad his revolver's hidden beneath his stolen work shirt; he'd be sorely tempted to draw it just to shut the guy up.

"That was… odd." Anna steps out from behind him, her voice a whisper so as not to draw attention to herself.

"Yeah…" Booker nods absentmindedly; he's watching the foreman still, the rotund man hurrying to a door on the far end of the factory floor rather than up to his office. "Looks like we might have a problem… c'mon, let's follow him."

Tailing the heavyset foreman isn't especially difficult; he seems in too much of a rush to glance behind him, Booker and Anna able to follow and keep up with his pace with little trouble. But both stop dead in their tracks when the foreman barrels through a door set into the right wall of the hallway, crying out, "Mr. Fink!"

"That lousy rat…" Nodding slowly as Anna hisses in displeasure, Booker feels a scowl coming on; the thought of dealing with another Fink isn't something he'd much fancy.

"C'mon, let's check it out." Whispering before creeping closer to the nearly closed door, Booker peers through the crack left by foreman in his haste as Anna slinks up behind him. The room the foreman had disappeared into looks to be a manager's office, Booker spying several men in suits along with the out of breath supervisor and Jeremiah Fink.

"They… they were asking about that man you sent off, sir!"

"What!?" Fink practically roars back at the cowering foreman, "How did that whore's spies find out about him already!?"

"I-I don't know, sir. These two… one big guy, one shorter… the smaller one had a large cap on, but I think… think he might be a she…"

"Did anyone talk?" Fink grabs the man by the shoulders as he demands, though at least he's not shouting anymore, "Did anyone mention the hospital?"

"No, not that I heard. Nobody there even mentioned Prophet's Memori-"

"Quiet, you fool!" Fink moves his grip from the foreman's shoulders to his collar, "The walls have ears! Loose lips, and all that. Now," releasing the foreman, Fink turns to someone outside Booker's field of vision, "Sansmark. Deal with them, once you have a… detailed description from him."

"Yes, sir." A voice comes from off to the left, Boker vaguely recalling someone by that name being Fink's head of security, at least until the industrialist offered him the job.

"Looks like we've worn out our welcome… c'mon, let's find the exit." Stepping back from the crack in the door, Booker glances back at Anna slowly only to find a touch of a grin on her lips, "So long as we don't get made, we'll be-" But just as Booker's about to finish, the door flies opinion, nearly catching him in the knee. The foreman stands there in the doorway with Sansmark behind him, a look of surprise written across his beet red face.

"I-It's them! The spies! San-!" Booker's fist collides with the foreman's jaw, knocking the rotund man back into Sansmark.

"Ah, hell. Run!" Grabbing Anna by the hand, Booker takes off down the hallway, shouts following after the two of them as a claxon of alarms begin to echo throughout the factory. A sound like a chocked back grunt comes from behind him, but Booker doesn't have time to pay it any mind.

"Where are we going?!" Anna shouts as they sprint away, she managing to catch up enough to run beside Booker and yank her hand from his.

"Gotta find a dock! This place don't have a ground floor if it's anything like the others!" Booker wishes he could get to his gun, but the effort would only slow him down and get them caught, what with his weapon and holster covered up beneath his stolen worker's shirt. "Maybe if I can... get your head down!"

A club swipes through the air as one of Fink's thugs appears from down an intersecting hallway, Booker and Anna ducking the blow and sprinting past. "Hey, that was the locker room we used, Booker!"

"That don't help us much!" More of Fink's thugs appear along with two of his security, the blue of the Founders uniform drawing a grimace across Booker's face. And the report of a pair of Broadsider pistols being fired their way only worsens his mood. "Get behind me!" Anna yelps as bullets fly all around them, Booker holding up an arm to shield his face as he charges the thugs and security guards.

Turning down the next hallway as Anna hides behind him, Booker can't help but grimace; he'd taken a few hits, most being absorbed harmlessly by his shield, but a few had managed to get through, "Ah, hell… couple near misses and a flesh wound… gah!" Just because it's not serious doesn't make it hurt any less, a streak of pain on his leg drawing a grunt from Booker.

"Booker, look! Loading dock!" Anna points ahead to a sign indicating what she'd just said, an arrow pointing left painted beneath it.

"That's our way out!" More gunshots come from behind them, and Booker quickly pushes Anna ahead of him as bullets whiz past.

After several minutes of sprinting down hallways and taking sharp corners, Booker and Anna find themselves standing on a small dock full of workers, though at least there aren't the turrets and flying gun platforms Booker had faced the last time he was at a Fink owned dock. Three cargo barges are docked at the piers, workers swarming over two of them while a third hasn't any crates or cargo on board.

But they don't have time to think; Fink's men appear at the end of the hallway they'd just stepped out of, Booker and Anna running to the unused barge and climbing onboard just as their pursuers step out onto the dock themselves.

"Take us to Prophet's Memorial!" Shouting at the automaton pilot, Booker jerks around as the shouts from their pursuers gets even closer, "Hit the deck!" Both he and Anna drop prone as gunfire erupts again, far more than they'd faced before and too much for Booker's shield to handle. And while the barge is slowly pulling away, Fink's men are closing faster than the sluggish beast of a hovercraft can leave port.

"Booker, please tell me you have EVE still! A Plasmid would be much appreciated about now!" Anna lifts her head long enough to shout.

"How the hell do you know that?!" Booker shouts back, the hail of gunfire making normal conversation impossible. But Anna's right, and Booker manages a grin; whether it's Elizabeth or Anna, he's still having to concede the point to her more often than not. "Alright…" Flames burst to life on his palm and fingers, liquid like molten lava pouring onto the deck only to scorch the wood where it lands, and a burning ball appears in his hand. "Here, catch, you bastards!"

Devil's Kiss explodes on the pier Fink's security and thugs are charging up, the force of the blast knocking several to the ground and several more off the dock entirely, all set afire and rolling to put it out or turning into piles of ash.

"Oh God!" Anna covers her mouth, looking as if she's about to be sick. Booker doesn't blame her; seeing this in person for the very first time, there's not a chance in hell it wouldn't affect her.

"Anna… you alright?" Rising slowly once the barge leaves Fink's factory behind, Booker reaches a hand towards Anna only to stop just short. "Dammit, Booker…" Cursing himself silently, Booker takes a step away from the prone woman as he finishes the thought, "You can't go acting fatherly to a lady older than you!"

"I'm… I'm alright, Booker." Anna pushes herself up into a seated position, pulling the cap off her head and letting her long, dark hair fall freely, "So… we're headed to this… Prophet's Memorial hospital?"

"Yeah… they'll likely be on the lookout for us. Can't imagine Fink sending him somewhere he didn't control…"

"But why? Why does he give a damn about my father? What does he think holding my father will gain him?"

"The question is not what," a familiar voice comes from behind Booker, the ex-Pinkerton groaning quietly as he instantly recognizes who the speaker is.

"But rather who." Turning to face the speakers, Booker frowns at the sight of the two; Robert and Rosalind Lutece stand by the barge's pilot cabin, the lady Lutece nodding, "Who he thinks your father is, that is the question that one should consider."

"Where the hell were the two of you earlier, huh?" Booker grumbles as Anna climbs to her feet.

"Our powers are muted in your companion's world; I believe we had informed you of that." Raising an eyebrow, Robert answers in his usual manner.

"We were unaware you had left the city. An oversight on our part." Rosalind continues, she looking as unflappable as ever.

"Fine…" Anna steps over to stand before the Lutece twins, "What do you mean, and can you help us?"

"We can assist you, yes, but there are precious few Tears we can use here." Nodding as he answers, Robert gives Anna a short bow, again in his usual manner.

"And as to our meaning, it is simple; that ghastly Fink believes your father to be Comstock."

"Comstock…?" There's a tremble in Anna's voice as she says the name, Booker glancing back at her and raising an eyebrow in surprise; there's an aspect of grim, quiet anger in Anna's countenance, her blue eyes suddenly reminding him more than a little of how Elizabeth's were in that final photograph. The picture that had depicted the last Comstock's final moments, which Booker had tossed into the stove the day after he'd brought Elizabeth home. "My father's nothing like Comstock."

The cold tone of Anna's voice seems to stop the twins, Robert and Rosalind glancing at one another before responding. Booker can't help but smirk a little at that, he rarely ever seeing the Luteces at a loss for words.

"Of course. But that horrid Fink has an agenda, one he must believe can be furthered by having a 'Comstock'." Rosalind starts again, shrugging ever so slightly.

"Naturally, your father would protest. However… in his present condition, it may be possible to… 'influence' him." Robert adds, and booker's all too aware of the horrified look forming on Anna's face.

"Make him think he is Comstock, for however short a time." Rosalind finishes, the Luteces glancing to one another as she falls silent. "It seems we've upset her. Should we have not mentioned the last bit?"

"He won't… my father will never be Comstock." Anna's voice is still cold and quiet, but she's speaking through grit teeth and her eyes flash with anger. And Booker has to wonder why; she hadn't experienced what Elizabeth did or even met Comstock, at least as far as Booker can figure.

"If that is-"

"Hey!" Booker steps in just as Anna's about to snap back at Robert, placing himself between her and the Luteces, "we've got bigger problems, like figuring how we're gonna break Booker out." It's an odd feeling, referring to someone else with his own name.

That gives Anna pause, the incensed brunette stopping to take a breath before nodding. "Good." Glancing back at the twins and stepping back so he can speak to both Anna and the Luteces, Booker breathes a relieved sigh. "Anyone have any bright ideas?"

"I've one, but it doesn't help us much…" Anna gives Booker a slightly sheepish grin, tugging at the collar of her stripped work shirt, "I think we should rid ourselves of these… and preferably burning them once we're done."

* * *

"So, that's it…" Murmuring to himself, Booker slides his revolver back into its holster as the Prophet's Memorial Hospital comes into view, the ex-Pinkerton having just finished looking over his weapon. "This job's getting worse all the time…"

Although they're still a good ways off, Booker can still make out two gunships bearing the colors of the Founders near the front of the hospital, his gut feeling that they wouldn't be able to just waltz on in there proving true.

"Booker, I found this in the cabin." Booker turns at the sound of Anna's voice, his daughters' counterpart holding a white bag with a red cross on the side; a Columbian first aid kit. Seeing Anna again in her blue blouse and white skirt while holding the medical bag leaves Booker with a serious case of déjà vu, memories of all the times Elizabeth had patched him up coming to mind. "I, ah… I'm not all that familiar with medicine, so…"

"Don't worry about it; I'm fine." Shaking his head, Booker chuckles to himself, "Best hold onto that for now, save it for something more serious than a flesh wound."

"Oh, okay…" Shrugging, Anna lets the medical bag hang from her now bandaged right hand; the sight of it draws a grimace from Booker, he inadvertently having aggravated Anna's injury when he grabbed her wrist back in Fink's factory. But she doesn't seem to favor it much, Anna stepping up to the bow beside him and peering towards their destination, "So that's it? That's where my father is?"

"That's what I figure. Doubt Fink can get him moved before we get there." Their plan to get his other self free of the place is fairly simple; he and Anna jump onto the roof when the barge flies over it, break in, and the Luteces will open a Tear once they've gotten the other Booker back to the roof. The last part had gotten both Booker and Anna suspicious, the twins saying there aren't many Tears in this world to use.

"Suppose they could be telling the truth…"

"Or they could be meaning for us to do this ourselves, instead." Anna finishes quietly, Booker nodding at the possibility. He never could tell when the twins were keeping something to themselves, this whole job, the existence of Anna and her Columbia a prime example.

The pair wait in silence as the cargo barge draws inexorably closer to their destination, Booker peering at the building once they're close enough to make out details; the hospital is much the same as most Columbian buildings he'd seen, this one roughly square shaped with a fanciful, four-sided spire climbing up from the center of the roof. Pillars and angel statues decorate the walls of the hospital and the spire, and a relief of Comstock is etched above the main entrance. A roof access door is set into the side of the spire facing them.

"They still venerate their Prophet, even after he abandoned them?" Anna's voice is only a whisper, but Booker can still hear the disgust in her voice.

"That's what fanatics do." Drawing his revolver again as the barge approaches the hospital, Booker can only shrug, "Alright… ready to jump?"

"Yeah…" Anna nods as she steps up to the edge with the first aid kit still in hand, Booker following a moment later and keeping his eyes peeled for threats, "On three? One…"

"Three!" Booker leaps the moment the hospital's below them, a startled Anna following a split second later, much to his relief; he had good reason to jump when he did. A glint of light had caught his eye, the report of a Bird's Eye rifle breaking the relative silence of the rooftop while a bullet slams into the deck where he'd been standing.

"Sniper!" Growling the word as he hits the ground, Booker rolls to a stop and brings his revolver to bear, firing at the sniper who'd been hiding partway up the tower. A cry of pain follows the report of his weapon, and Booker bolts for the roof access door without bothering to check if the sniper had been put down or merely been wounded. "C'mon! Gotta hurry, or the whole thing's scotched!"

"Right behind you!" Anna calls back as Booker slams through the door, she running through a split second after him.

Inside the spire portion of the hospital, Booker and Anna find themselves in a dim hallway of white tile, white painted walls and ceiling, and sterile glass, a stairwell ahead of them and rooms filled with medical equipment on either side. One such room is in each corner of the spire and the spiraling stairs are located in the center.

"C'mon, I don't think he's up here… Fink probably has his men guarding your Booker's room."

"Sure… I guess that makes sense." Anna follows close behind, still holding the medical bag. "Umm… this looks like a lab, so the patients would be below us… right?"

"How'd you figure… never mind. Down it is."

Descending the staircase, Booker leads with his revolver raised while Anan follows close behind. The floor below looks much the same as the one they'd come from as Booker and Anna approach, with one key difference; it's anything but dim down here. The spiraling staircase ends on this floor, Booker and Anna stepping off it to find themselves at the center of two intersecting hallways again, stairs leading to the floor below visible at the end of each; and near the end of the hallway to their right stand two nervous looking men wearing factory worker's garb, one armed with a shotgun, the other with a pistol.

"Who the-?" The man with the shotgun notices their presence first, but Booker's already leveled his revolver at the thug's head. They're a good sixty feet away, but Booker can still see the panic appearing on the thug's face; he has them dead to rights, but the last thing he needs now is to alert anyone who isn't already searching for them after the brief exchange on the rooftop.

"Drop it and get the hell out of here." He's advancing quickly while keeping the weapon trained on the thugs, both of Fink's men seeming to hesitate despite their situation. But the hesitation lasts only a couple seconds, a smile tugging at his features as the thugs prove a sensible pair; their weapons hit the floor a half second after they start running.

"Well, that was painless." A chuckle escapes Anna as they sprint to the now unguarded door, she glancing up at him without a word and looking more than a touch amused. But her mirth disappears the second they're through the door, and Booker can't blame her; lying on the bed is the man they'd come to find, his older self clad in a ruffled brown suit and lying unconscious on the hospital bed. The man's much older than he and his hair's turning gray, but he's still recognizable as Booker DeWitt. "Father! Please, wake up! It's-"

"Anna! We don't have time for this; help me get him up."

It takes the pair only a minute to pull Anna's father out of bed, she and Booker draping his arms over their shoulders to support him and starting for the door. As Booker's on his unconscious other self's right, he steps out first while peering down the hallway. "It's clear. C'mon, let's…" But footfalls from the stairs perk up his ears, and he turns about as quickly as he can while raising his weapon just as Anna steps out of the room, his older self between them. "Ah, hell…"

Amid the sea of blue uniforms as Founder soldiers climb up the stairs, Booker spies one face that gives him pause, one that brings many a memory to mind and the emotions that come with them. "Annabelle?"

* * *

**Author's Note: Well, with the site down yesterday, updating wasn't really possible (and I'm still not convinced that they fixed everything), so here we are. Unfortunately, I'm away from my computer at my usual update time today, so I'll be updating at work. As such, the chapter may not be as cleaned up as usual, and I'll attend to that when I have a chance. **

**So now Booker and Anna are in the last Comstock's Columbia, one where there never was a Lamb, Tears, or Vigors. And now that Booker's come face to face with someone troublesome alongside an older Anna and much older version of him, things just got a hell of a lot more complicated. What do you think will happen, and how will they get out of this situation they've found themselves in?**

**Anyway, thanks for reading, and I hope you enjoyed the chapter. I meant to wrap up Booker's time in Columbia in this chapter, but it just didn't shape up that way.**


	10. Reunion In The Sky

February 3, 1922, 5:55 PM

"Annabelle?"

Booker's jaw drops as he stares at the woman before him, clad in the same blue velvet dress that Elizabeth wears on occasion. The shock of seeing her is so great that Booker only barely realizes his revolver is still up and trained on her; although she's older than he remembers, Booker could never forget that face or those blue eyes, so much like his daughters'. Only having his memories pulled apart by Tear sickness would keep him from remembering.

Standing before him at the top of the stairwell, and with a dozen or so soldiers in Columbian blue uniforms behind her, is the very image of his dearly departed wife Annabelle. And she looks just as shocked at seeing him as he is of her. "Z-Zachary? Is that… is that you?" A murmur rises from the soldiers as Annabelle asks, her voice low and hopeful.

That snaps Booker out of his shock, though he's still off balance form seeing her again; he narrows his eyes and tightens his grip on his revolver. This woman isn't his Annabelle DeWitt. "She's Lady Comstock." Gritting his teeth as he thinks it, Booker silently stares back at his wife's other self.

"Lord… how can this be?" Lady Comstock looks back and forth between Booker and the older man he's supporting, a cold knot forming in the pit of Booker's stomach, "Two Prophets? It truly is a miracle, God returning you to us…" She ignores Anna completely, Booker recalling how jealous the other Lady Comstock was.

"There's no miracle here, lady. I ain't Comstock, and neither's he."

"How can you say that?" The knot tightens as Lady Comstock objects, and cold anger begins to seep through Booker's veins, "I saw the spark of recognition in your eyes. How can you deny-?"

"A-Annabelle…"

The older Booker mutters quietly, his eyes still closed and the man still unconscious. "Zachary…" Lady Comstock takes a step towards the unconscious Booker, a hopeful look on her features.

"Hold it, lady." Booker steps sideways so he's between his older self and Lady Comstock, still keeping his revolver trained on her and with his other self's arm across his shoulder. Lady Comstock stops in her tracks, her expression turning frustrated, and Booker scowls grimly.

Their situation's getting worse and worse the more Booker thinks about it; more and more soldiers are arriving from below, and if they start shooting, there's not a chance in hell that the three of them will get to the stairs before someone's hurt badly; especially if Booker and Anna are dragging the unconscious Booker between them.

"With God as my witness, I swear that I'd recognize my husband no matter how he's changed." Lady Comstock opens her arms, her voice taking on a plaintive tone, "Come back to me, Zacha-"

"I ain't your Comstock, and I ain't your Prophet." Booker responds angrily, he somehow keeping his voice low; he's genuinely considering telling her that Comstock's dead. He takes a step back, Anna doing the same.

"Then," anger suddenly clouds Lady Comstock's features, "what in God's name are you doing in the Prophet's city?!" She steps closer again, not paying the revolver leveled at her chest any mind.

"Just bringing him home." Booker nods at the still unconscious older man, he not taking his eyes from Lady Comstock or the soldiers, "The fella's sick; he's not supposed to be here."

"I decide who is and isn't supposed to be here." Her voice is quiet, Booker recognizing that tone and just how angry it means Lady Comstock is.

"Look, if you could see it clear to let us be…"

"I'd sooner let Columbia fall from the heavens than allow the Prophet to be taken from us." Despite the seriousness in her tone, Lady Comstock doesn't take any overt action against them. "I will have the truth, one way or the other, so help me God."

"Listen, we don't want any trouble." Booker and Anna are now steadily backing up, the brunette trying to hide from Lady Comstock. "We'll just be on our way." The dark reflection of his wife glowers back at Booker, though she slows her advance.

It's over a hundred feet to the stairs, and it's slow going, what with the three of them backing towards the spiral staircase while Booker keeps his revolver aimed at Lady Comstock; she and the soldiers are still following, albeit slowly, Lady Comstock's men catching up to her at an even slower rate.

"Anna… get yourself ready to run…"

No sooner has Booker said it than the lead soldiers come abreast with Lady Comstock, and they quickly dash forward and close ranks around her, a smirk appearing on her countenance.

"Run!" Booker shouts as he snaps off a shot, but the soldiers are already reaching for their weapons even as among their numbers slumps to the ground, the ex-Pinkerton's bullet finding its mark.

"I want them alive! Even the girl; especially the girl!" Lady Comstock shouts from her place in the middle of the soldiers, "Don't let them escape; shoot at their legs, slow them down!"

There's hesitation among the soldiers, Booker can see that plain as day as another low murmur rises from the cluster of men and women in blue; it would appear that the soldiers are reluctant to shoot at someone Lady Comstock identified as their 'Prophet'. "After them!" Another shout from Lady Comstock, and Booker grimaces as a bullet suddenly whizzes past his arm.

"Anna, take him!" Shouting over the hail of gunfire, Booker slips out from beneath his older counterpart's arm and interposes himself between the soldiers and Anna, firing back as he runs. Pistol and repeater fire fill the sterile-looking white hallway, almost to the point of drowning out his revolver's heavier report.

A grunt escapes Booker as one of the many bullets fired slams into the back of his leg rather than ricocheting off the tile floor; his shield absorbs the brunt of the bullet's force, and Booker manages to keep running, but it stings like hell.

"By the Prophet…!" A surprised shout cuts through the din of the soldiers' fire, and the bullets flying past his legs eases up. Booker glances back to find several of the soldiers staring in disbelief, and he finds a chuckle coming to him despite their situation; they've never seen anything like his shield, and they're reacting the same as those from his own time.

"Keep going!"

But as they approach the spiraling stairs, Booker curses under his breath; he can hear the distinctive squeak of booted feet on hospital tile. Soldiers approach from the other three directions, and Booker and the others don't have time to deal with the newcomers. More bullets glance off his shield, a few forcing their way through to leave lances of pain across his body.

"Booker, help me!" Anna shouts back at him, the brunette struggling to help her father climb up the stairs, but to no avail. Holstering his weapon, Booker grabs hold of his older counterpart's arm, he and Anna dragging the unconscious Founder upstairs as the gunfire intensifies.

The soldiers are hot on their heels as Booker and Anna step out onto the next floor with her father between them, the blue uniform clad men and women catching up quickly now that they aren't advancing while firing or being shot at in return.

"Anna." Glancing over at Anna and her unconscious father, Booker steps back to the stairs, "Get your Booker outside."

"What? Booker, no!"

"Get going!"

Still, Anna hesitates, "Booker, you have to get out of here too! Elizabeth and your Anna are waiting for you!"

Booker grimaces as she says it, her words ringing true. But he doesn't falter, "I'll be fine, Anna; get him out of here! I'll catch up." He waits until Anna reluctantly steps away with her Booker, the brunette making for the door they stepped into the hospital from the roof through, the former False Shepherd turning his attention back to the stairs.

"Hope this works…" Flames flare up and engulf his left hand just as the first of the soldiers appear from below, Booker grinning humorlessly at the unfortunate fools. But as the flaming, explosive orb begins to form in his palm, Booker realizes something; he's not getting the reaction he'd expected.

The soldiers' eyes do go wide, but it is in awe rather than fear, some of their jaws dropping while others fall to their knees. In that split second before his Devil's Kiss Vigor is fully formed, Booker feels a wry grin replace his mirthless one. "Never seen a Plasmid or Vigor before, huh?" They think him their Prophet, they've seen him shrug off bullets, and now Booker's conjured flames in his hand; he can hardly imagine what's going through these fanatics' minds right now. "All I'd need is a flaming sword…"

But the reprieve is short-lived; the Vigor's heat winks out of existence, Booker looking down slowly only to find his calloused hand staring back at him, not the glowing, burning mass it becomes when using Devil's Kiss. And it doesn't take him a second to realize why, "Ah, hell… out of EVE…"

Booker sprints down the hall he and Anna came down towards the door, left open by his and his daughters' other selves as the soldiers recover, shouts coming from those behind them on the stairs. And as he bursts through into the light, Booker finds… nothing. No Lutece, no Tear, only a concerned, scared Anna and her unconscious father.

Once again, Booker doesn't have time to think about what could have happened; shouts and the sound of boots pounding on tile come from the hallway, the soldiers nearly on them.

"Dammit!" Grabbing the metal doorknob, Booker pulls the door shut and braces himself against the frame, holding on for dear life; the initial pull on the door barely registers, but the next is a concerted effort by one or more of the soldiers, and Booker can imagine several of them pulling on the doorknob at the same time. "Anna! Try to find a way down!"

"Are you nuts?!" Anna looks back at him in horror, but Booker doesn't have time to respond; another pull nearly yanks him along with the door, Booker only barely able to keep the door from flying open. Angry voices come from the other side, and he doesn't know how much longer he can hold it closed

"Booker! They're here!" The sound of a Tear opening accompanies Anna's voice, and Booker grimaces as he glances back to see the Luteces on the other side; if he lets go now, the soldiers will practically be right on top of him.

"About time! Go, I'll be right behind!" Closing his eyes, Booker calls on the last of his strength as his fingers ache from the exertion, the ex-Pinkerton also calling on the last of his reserves of EVE in the hopes that both will be enough; when he opens his eyes again, obsidian crystals cover his hand and spark with electricity. "Come and get it, you pieces of shit!"

That incites the soldiers on the other side, and Booker ducks to the side as a gunshot punches through the door where his head had been. The moment he feels the door pull beneath his fingers again, Booker releases his Plasmid into the knob, cries of pain coming from the other side. And he doesn't give them time to recover; Booker bolts from the door and to the Tear, Anna almost through with her father and the Luteces waving them on from the other side. He barely hears the roof access door finally open, but the voice that follows rings in his ears as he flies through the Tear.

"No, please! Don't leave me alone again!"

* * *

Columbia, 7:15 PM

A sigh parts Anna's lips as she steps into her father's office, the 'First Daughter' of Columbia experiencing a degree of exhaustion that she's never felt before in her life. She has a newfound level of respect and sympathy for Elizabeth now; what Anna's gone through doesn't hold a candle to her 'sister's' journey in either Comstock's Columbia or Rapture.

Booker stands by the window and gazes out at the city, Anna spying the fiery colors of sunset painting her father's Columbia as she approaches.

"How is he?" Turning to her as he asks, Booker sounds only a little worse for wear, though he looks anything but; he's been shot up several times, though he'd bandaged the worst of them before their arrival at the hospital.

"Father's resting comfortably. The Luteces are playing music and his recordings… he seems the better for it." She steps up to the window and beside Booker, Anna idly brushing a lock of hair behind her ear as she does. "Booker… thank you for this. Are you… are you alright, after seeing… her?"

"Huh? Yeah…" He gives her a sideways glance, Booker breathing a sigh before responding, "Don't mention it. But it's about time you came clean with me."

"Heh…" Grinning, Anna shrugs, "You noticed, huh?"

"You're act plenty familiar with Elizabeth, and you seem to know a fair bit more about us than you're letting on."

Anna smiles timidly as she looks up at Booker, "I should have known you'd catch on quickly. Umm… how best to begin?" Fiddling nervously with the cuff of her blue blouse, Anna takes a deep breath to steady, "I suppose the first thing I should say is that I wasn't trying to hide anything… I just didn't know how to tell you…"

Stepping away from the window, Anna strolls over to the white couch beside the monitors and takes a seat, Booker following slowly but remains standing. "Booker, you know that my father's Columbia is nothing like the others, and the same is true of what became of our Rosalind Lutece. It's… it's a long story, Booker, you might want to sit…"

Booker just shakes his head, and Anna shrugs before relating hers and her father's story. She explains how Rosalind created an advanced Lutece Device that they call the Array, and how she showed her Booker what came to pass in the other worlds.

She tries to explain as well what little she understands of how the Array works, but it's clear to Anna that it's all going over Booker's head, the blank look he gives her evidence of that. And Anna lets out a weary sigh before trying again; it lets them find and peer into other worlds. "Rosalind bequeathed the Array to my father in 1919 at his retirement party and disappeared the next day."

After that, she explains how her father would watch as the other Bookers and Elizabeths tried to escape Columbia, how her father felt responsible and started a self-imposed vigil, of sorts. And Anna has to stop there to collect herself, all the failed escape attempts she'd seen threatening to bring a tear to her eye. "We… we watched as Booker after Booker failed, and the pain and suffering Elizabeth experienced each time. It… it was horrible… but we couldn't interfere; we could only watch…"

Anna falls silent again, having to rest her face in her hands as the emotions threaten to overwhelm her. It takes her a while to continue, the brunette heaving a long, shuddering sigh before telling Booker how this went on for over a year, how she found out about it several months after her father had started. And finally, she explains how her father had witnessed how everything came to an end, she describing how Elizabeth had fallen to her knees in the river where it all began and sobbing her heart out.

"My father searched for her after that, for two months… he wanted to comfort her. When he found her… she was trying to stop the last Comstock." That draws a reaction from Booker, a hint of… something, flashing across his features; he knows just what she's talking about. "And that's when Elizabeth…" Now Anna hesitates, the brunette momentarily unsure of whether or not she should tell him, "That's when Elizabeth arrived in our world… she thought my father was Comstock."

Picking herself up, Anna steps over to her father's desk and opens a drawer, retrieving a framed photograph; she'd hidden this picture before stepping through the Tear to Booker's world. "Here." Anna hands Booker the photograph of Elizabeth and her father before sitting down again, "After she realized her mistake, Elizabeth made to leave, but my father asked her to stay."

Booker still hasn't said anything, but Anna's too wrapped up in her recollection, so many fond and painful memories tied to the story, "She looked absolutely beat… I, um… insisted she get some sleep, so I put her in my bed… she fell fast asleep despite her protests…" A smile touches her lips at that. Anna backs up and tells Booker everything she knew of Elizabeth's time in her father's Columbia.

"After she left, father and I both knew she would never return… my father offered, said she could stay or come any time she liked… but Columbia's not the peaceful home it is for our family or people…" She shakes her head, though she can't shake the lingering sadness, "Umm… anyway… we continued watching over her, father and I. We… saw what happened in Rapture, and how you saved her and brought her home. We, umm… still check in on her frequently…"

"That's why you don't want Elizabeth learning of you two, because this is still Columbia." Booker shrugs and slowly takes a seat beside Anna, the white couch creaking under his weight, "Guess that explains where the gun came from."

Anna can only stare at Booker, more than a little taken aback by how well he's taking what she'd told him. "You're… ah… not angry? We've been peeking in on your family… for quite a while now, Booker."

He shrugs again, "You seem like a decent enough sort, and compared to the Luteces, I'd wager you two show a hell of a lot more restraint."

That draws a chuckle from Anna, the brunette rising hesitantly from the couch, "Thanks, Booker… umm, would you mind terribly staying for a short while? The Luteces are busy, anyway, and I'm sure my father would like to have a word with you."

"Sure."

* * *

7:50 PM

Booker rests against the door in the darkened bedroom, the former False Shepherd experiencing an odd sense of déjà vu; his older self lies in the bed, and now that he's no longer in a desperate, dangerous situation, he can't help but feel strange looking at the older man.

"Guh…" The elderly Booker groans as he opens his eyes, blinking with a look of confusion about him; Booker can only imagine his head is throbbing right about now, on top of the confusion left in Tear sickness' wake.

"You're awake." Stepping from the door, Booker grins as his older self snaps his head around to look his way with no small amount of confusion, "Gave us a hell of a time, getting you back here." Booker steps over to the side of the bed as Anna's father sits up slowly, the older man looking like he doesn't know how to react to his presence.

Finally, the older man speaks, his voice croaking slightly, "Where's Anna…?"

"Downstairs, making you something to eat." Booker steps away from the bed as his older self breathes a sigh. "Booker, Anna's going to ask when she finds you awake, but I want a straight answer; what the hell were you thinking?"

The older man stares back at him in silence, Booker frowning slightly with his back turned to the man, "Your girl told me everything, so if you're worrying about that…" That draws a sigh from Booker's counterpart.

"I meant to see Annabelle again… and I wanted to be prepared."

"Prepared?" Now Booker stares back at the older man, "Booker, that woman ain't your Annabelle, and neither's she mine. She's Comstock's wife." Shaking his head, Booker turns back to his counterpart, "She thought we were Comstock… took offense to us wanting to leave, sent her soldiers after us." Booker crosses his arms as he leans against the window of the older man's bedroom, the ex-Pinkerton shaking his head slowly, "What do you mean, prepare?"

Now the older Booker looks uncomfortable, a pained look crossing his weathered features. "I… ah, must have been a goddamn fool…" Scratching his head, Booker heaves another exasperated sigh, "I figured it'd be best to know as much about Annabelle… no, Lady Comstock's world as I could… so I asked the Luteces to take me to Rapture's world…"

A groan escapes Booker now, he shaking his head slowly as he massages his temples, "Comstock, huh? You're right, buddy; you are a goddamn fool."

"Yeah…"

"Don't tell Anna." Both Booker and his older self nod in agreement, the younger of the two feeling a touch of a grin tugging at his features; there's no need to worry her. But no sooner have the two men fallen silent than a quiet knock comes from the door.

"Booker? Father?" Anna steps into the room with a tray bearing a bowl of soup, a look of delight appearing on her face as she lays eyes on her now awake father. "Father! Are you alright?" He nods slowly

"I'm sorry, Anna... never intended to put you in danger…" Looking up, the older Booker lets a lopsided grin tug at his features, "Are you…?"

"I'm just fine, father." Anna steps away from the door, setting the tray down on a low dresser before hurrying over to her father's side, "And I'll tell you all about it later…"

"Hey," speaking up, Booker steps towards the open bedroom door, "hate to break up your family reunion, but I think it's about time I was shut of this place; nice meeting you folks, but it's time for me to go." Stepping outside, Booker finds the Luteces awaiting him, and he shakes his head again as he mutters, "You two are nuts, taking him to Rapture…"

"We took every precaution." Robert answers, and if Booker didn't know any better, he'd think the redheaded scientist was a touch indignant.

"He never set foot into the city; we simply transported him to an isolated area in that world." Rosalind finishes, she remaining as calm and uninterested as always. And the twins open the Tear a moment later, Booker stepping through and finding himself back in his apartment, the former False Shepherd heaving a weary sigh as he trudges off to bed.

* * *

7:45 PM

"Finished, father?" Anna smiles as she takes the bowl from Booker, and he nods slowly; she's been acting like a mother hen ever since he woke up. "Alright… try to get some rest, okay? I'll be cleaning up…"

"Anna…" Booker starts to object, but Anna only gives him a small, peculiar smile; he can't tell if she's relieved that he's home, upset with him over doing something so damn foolish, or both. "Uh… thank you, sweetheart…"

"Goodnight, father." Anna slips out of the room, closing the door slowly behind her so as not to make a sound. And the elderly Booker just breathes a sigh, the Founder of Columbia lying back and resting his head on his pillow.

Trying to sleep, Booker's mind is plagued with visions and memories from his recent ordeal, the retired politician's brow furrowing in discomfort. But one in particular troubles him, and he mutters to himself softly, "What was that… there wasn't a Big Daddy…" Booker groans as he shakes his head, trying to push the memory not his own from his thoughts.

* * *

**Author's Note: Well, what do you think that's supposed to mean? Now, we're finally at the end of Booker's search for his alternate self, though I'm not sure it's what everyone was expecting; I like to think the case was enjoyable, but that's really for you to decide. Anyway, a couple things; Booker's Devil's Kiss failing is how I decided to depict him not having enough EVE/Salts, just as he said and sort of in the same vein as when you try to charge a Vigor to its alternate mode without enough to do so.**

**Secondly, my depiction of the soldiers' reaction to Booker; though they wouldn't know what he looks like, I thought him being identified as the Prophet by Lady Comstock and the supernatural abilities he'd displayed (ignoring bullets, bringing fire to his fingers) would give fanatics like the Founders pause. Of course, feel free to let me know what you think on the matter.**

**I'll be giving the chapter another lookover later, and as usual, I welcome any and all feedback you might have. Thanks for reading, and I hope you enjoyed the chapter.**


	11. Founder And Prophet

**For new readers, this story is based off of and is tied into several other pieces of mine. If you're not sure where to start, I'd suggest finding Bioshock Infinite: Unbroken, as well as its prequel Unbroken: Song of Sorrow and the continuation Unbroken: I'm Home. Thanks for checking it out.**

**Foreword: A quick word of note, the majority of this chapter takes place over a very short time.**

* * *

April 22, 1923, 7:15 AM

"That son of a bitch…

Cursing quietly, Booker can't believe what his eyes are showing him as he stares at the screen. The image displayed is of a man who's the very image of Booker, pacing angrily back and forth in a cell; the cage that holds him is a cramped one, so the man needs stop and turn often in his pacing. And from all the metal plates and grating that makes up the floor, the reddish glow of magma coming from somewhere and all the pipes and conduits on the walls and ceiling, Booker's going to guess he's being held in Hephaestus proper rather than in an outlying area.

A grimace twists Booker's features as he stands before the monitor, this one the only screen of the four active right now; the man shown onscreen isn't quite the same as the other Booker DeWitts out there. This fella's hair is whiter than Booker's is, and those eyes give him away. "Comstock." Booker growls the name as he runs his fingers through his own graying brown hair.

He doesn't know why the last Comstock has been resurrected, but it can't be a good thing. And given where Comstock's being held, it's safe to say that the ruler of Rapture has something to do with it.

"I'd imagine Andrew Ryan was more than a little put out when Booker and Elizabeth disappeared on him." A smirk touches Booker's features, but only for a moment; anger swirls up from within, wiping the smile from the Founder of Columbia's face, his pulse quickening and fingers curling into fists as he stares at the man responsible for nearly everything Elizabeth had suffered through.

"Why does Comstock, of all people, get a second chance?" Hissing in disgust, Booker takes a deep breath to try and calm himself. "_Why_ would Ryan revive _him_?! If anyone… if…" Booker freezes, a possibility striking him like a bolt of lightning, "If Comstock's here… then…"

Booker practically runs back to his desk, grabbing at the controls the moments he's in front of them and searching Hephaestus, a faint glimmer of hope and plenty of fear and panic spurring him on.

It doesn't take long for him to find what he seeks, Booker falling back into his chair. "Elizabeth..." Booker can barely even breathe the name, his hope vindicated along with his fears; a second screen depicts Elizabeth as she appeared during her time in Rapture, the young woman strapped to a cold, austere steel table that's been inclined at about a forty-five degree angle.

And at the far right side of the monitors, Booker can just make out what she's being made to face, a wall sized screen with the image of Andrew Ryan displayed on it. The tycoon speaks to Elizabeth, almost sounding like he's taunting the helpless girl.

Anger surges within him again, coursing through Booker's veins as he clenches his jaw and fists so hard that it hurts. While the room is dark, he can barely make out a number of men and women standing beyond Elizabeth's field of vision, all dressed in white and wearing surgeons' masks. "What are they… no… those pieces of… they're going to torture her?!"

Booker's on his feet before he knows it, time seeming to slow as he storms over to the monitors as his mind races. He has to do something, that much is plain to see, but what? It's been many years since he's been in anything resembling a fight, and the Founder doesn't even possess a proper weapon anymore. "If I were to try and rescue her by jumping through a Tear…" The thought draws a grimace across his grizzled features, "I doubt I'd be able to fight off those spliced up maniacs, even if I had a decent weapon and not just my fists…"

Wracking his mind, Booker tries desperately to think up some way that he could affect a rescue, whether by going through the Tear himself, enlisting someone's aid or even by giving Elizabeth the means to save herself. He'd even settle for the Luteces appearing out of nowhere to offer one of their vague, roundabout answers.

But nothing concrete comes to mind, all Booker's able to come up with is that he has an old Bowie knife from his time in the 7th. He can't very well ask Slate to send any of his officers to Rapture, for plenty of reasons, and Booker certainly can't expect Elizabeth to be able to cut herself free and escape with just one knife. Given her bonds, Booker wouldn't be surprised if she didn't even cut through one before the doctors stopped her.

"I could contact the other Booker, but…" A sigh escapes him as he falls silent; trying to speak with his other self is a very risky proposition, enough so that he's never tried, and Columbia's Founder doesn't want that Booker's Elizabeth to even know of his and the city's existence, much less something like this.

But this Elizabeth is in dire straits, and she needs help, now. Booker doesn't even want to think about what might happen if she doesn't get away.

"Help…" Booker stops in his tracks, a terrible, loathsome idea coming to mind as he turns his gaze back to the first screen. The more he thinks about it, the less Booker likes the idea, and watching the fella pacing in his cage like an animal does not help him any. The very notion of the idea makes Booker feel nauseous, and no matter how he tries to debate this in his mind, it feels like a betrayal of everything he's ever believed and what his other self and Elizabeth suffered through.

"Heh… this' sounding more like a deal with the Devil…" Booker's laugh comes out sharp and humorless, the analogy not too far off the mark. But the notion refuses to disappear, and Booker has a sudden, strong urge to punch something for even considering the possibility. It takes all of his self-control to not put his fist through the monitor.

"There's got to be another way!"

Booker damn near roars as anger, hate, frustration and self-loathing all begin to take hold and lending to a sense of urgency, but the Founder of Columbia manages to catch himself in time, lowering his voice to a seething hiss instead. The situation's scotched up enough already, and the last thing he needs is for Anna to wake up and he having to explain to his daughter.

"That son of a bitch is the cause of all this! If not for him, she never would have… Elizabeth only travelled to that watery hellhole because of Comstock! And everything he did to her…" All of the darker emotions Booker ever felt for Comstock seem to come to a head all at once, a sudden surge of pure, unyielding rage burning through his veins like hellfire.

His fingers slowly curl into fists, and Booker lashes out with his left after staring at the image of Comstock, a barely suppressed roar escaping him as little more than a strangled grunt. And his fist finds purchase in the wall just to the left of the monitors, shooting pain suddenly running up his arm as the solid material hits back.

"Gah! Son of a…" Cursing through grit teeth, Booker holds his sore hand, the intense pain quickly subsiding and leaving behind a throbbing ache in his bones, "Well, guess I'm lucky… nothing's broken…" Looking back up after clutching his hand for a moment, Booker spies the fist sized dent he left in the wall; he'd seriously considered putting his fist through the monitor displaying Comstock again, but the Founder knows better, preferring aching bones to lacerations and a nasty electric shock.

"There is no other way, is there?" Booker heaves a deep, resigned sigh, most of the rage and the adrenaline it had gotten pumping through his veins leaving him, and he feels suddenly feels weak and weary without them. Still, Booker marches out of his office with a scowl on his face, still seething over what he's about to do but determined to see this through to the end; there isn't time for him to debate this, every second he wastes is another that she might not have.

He doesn't even go to Anna's door, Booker too focused on his task to check if his daughter's still asleep. Instead, he takes the first right into his own bedroom and makes a beeline for his dresser. What he seeks rests in the lowest drawer, and as he kneels before the heavy dresser and pulls it out, there it is; a lacquered, stained wood and brass hinged box, the placard on the lid reading 'Property of Booker DeWitt, 7th Cavalry, Wounded Knee'.

It's the same box he'd pulled from his desk the day Splicers attacked in Booker and Elizabeth's world. The revolver he had kept inside from his days as a soldier had been flung through a Tear when one of the mutated lunatics had his daughter's other self pinned, and is still in Elizabeth's possession. Booker had decided the next day that he needn't keep it close at hand, and he'd stored it in the same drawer as where the spare key to his office lies.

It had just felt wrong leaving the box empty, so Booker had stored his old Bowie knife where the revolver had been, even though the blade hadn't exactly been 'standard issue' for the 7th. And now the knife is about to go as well, in the same manner as his revolver had; even worse, Booker's giving it to a man that he wouldn't spit on if he were dying of thirst.

"Suppose the man was repentant… but that's just as likely him trying to get away from what he did to Anna…" Another resigned sigh escapes Booker, and he takes the long knife from the box, "If there's another way to save her, I can't see it... but why does it have to be setting Comstock loose?"

Drawing the knife halfway as he stands, Booker frowns; this blade's seen plenty of use, and not a lick of it is something he'd be proud of. The blade's seen better days, the edge a little dull, but overall the knife is still usable.

Booker remembers how all the Comstocks would glorify the Massacre at Wounded Knee, each and every one of them without fail, and Booker shudders as still vivid memories surface. He remembers all of it as if he'd rode onto those killing fields yesterday. He still remembers the blood, so much blood…

"This really will be a deal with the Devil…" Shaking his head to push the memories away, hopefully letting them sink into the depths of his mind again, Booker rises quickly while leaving the empty box in the dresser.

He doesn't let the horrid memories or the fact that he's about to attempt to free a man whom the word 'monster' could aptly be used to describe dissuade him. Booker's path is clear, if unsavory, unsettling and the outcome of which is anything but certain.

Sheathing the knife, Booker hurries out of his bedroom and down the stairs to the living room, trying to keep quiet as he goes. Hanging a right once he steps off the staircase, Booker only stops as he comes up to the door to the basement, tucked away beneath the steps. "No going back after this…" Muttering to himself as he idly rubs a finger along the knife's worn grip, Booker glances up for a moment, wondering what Anna would do if she were here with him right now, "If I go down there, I'm getting involved, one way or the other…"

But Booker just shakes his head, a chuckle managing to escape him despite the gravity of the situation; he's well past the point of no return. Booker's been beyond it ever since he took a seat at his desk and turned on the Array. With that thought in mind, Booker turns the doorknob and descends into the darkness below.

* * *

The Lutece Array is still active and humming when Booker walks through the final security door, the chamber that holds the last of Rosalind Lutece's achievements awash with the glow coming from the machine's various panels and the central column. And the hemispherical room is just as Booker remembers it; the round protrusions that run up the wall in rows to the center of the ceiling, the thick, heavy cables snaking across the floor to the Array and the complicated pieces of machinery that make up the device are all exactly the same even after this past year.

"Don't know why I'd expect any different…" Stepping over to the nearest console, Booker runs a finger along its metal surface, the digit coming away brown and leaving a line through the dust, "Guess I'll be needing to clean up in here…" Shaking his head slowly, Booker turns his attention to the Lutece Array and back to the matter at hand.

A pair of images shimmers between the four pylons of the Lutece Array, the very same scenes that were depicted on the monitors in Booker's office. In one, Elizabeth is still strapped helplessly to the inclined metal table and facing the large screen with Andrew Ryan's likeness depicted on it, while Comstock is still pacing furiously in his confining, barred cell.

"That cell's a damn sight more than that bastard deserves…" Grimacing, Booker lays his hands and the knife down on the dusty console. He can still hardly believe what he's about to do, and Booker's loathing gaze bores into the image of Comstock.

Now that he knows how to use the Lutece Array properly to open a Tear, it doesn't take Booker especially long to find the right lever. But the Founder makes some last minute adjustments and focuses the Lutece Field observing Comstock first; it wouldn't do to open a Tear that's uselessly on the outside of the cage, after all, and Booker isn't about to let the portal between worlds open in plain view of the former Prophet.

Once the Lutece Field settles inside the cell and against the back wall, Booker takes a long, deep breath, waiting for the moment that Comstock's attention is entirely on the outside of the cage. He's anxious, nervous even, but Booker just glowers at the man on the other side of the Lutece Field, the Founder of Columbia gripping the lever on the Array's pylon tightly while holding the old Bowie knife in his other hand.

And the moment comes, Booker pulling hard on the lever just as Comstock's about to turn in his pacing, the Lutece Field rippling erratically before the distinct sound of a Tear opening fills the oddly shaped room.

Booker cranks back his arm and throws the knife as hard as he can, the sheathed blade spinning end over end as it sails through the newly opened Tear. And a deep, dark part of him wishes he'd taken the knife from its sheathe as it crashes squarely into Comstock's back, Booker pushing the lever back up and closing the Tear before the former Prophet's able to spin around and look.

With the Tear safely closed and Comstock none the wiser, all that's left is the Lutece Field, and Booker chuckles as he notices the surprise and confusion on the fake 'Booker's' face. He's staring directly at where the Tear had been, Founder DeWitt and Father Comstock looking each other in the eye across the barrier between worlds, although the Prophet doesn't realize it.

The surprise doesn't last long; Comstock shakes it off quickly and snatches up the knife, tucking it behind his back before stepping up to the bars of his cell, "Hey. Hey! Flatfoot! I need a word!"

"What do you want, DeWitt?" Much to Booker's surprise, one of Ryan's security forces appears from around the corner, the man wearing heavy, bulky looking armor without a helmet and carrying a shotgun. "Unless you're feeling like wising up and cooperat-guh!" The guard doesn't get to finish; Comstock's hand shoots through the bar, grabbing the man by his collar midsentence and yanking him face first into the hard, unyielding metal cage, the man's skull making an especially painful sounding 'crack' as he hits.

Despite the force of the impact, the blow only stuns the spliced up guard, but that doesn't slow Comstock one bit; he just reaches for the knife tucked beneath his belt with his free hand, Booker grimacing as he watches the blade bite into flesh again.

"Not a lick of hesitation…" Booker hangs his head as he leans on his arms on the console, the older DeWitt's hands planted firmly on the metal control panel and keeping his elbows locked to keep himself upright. The 'deal' has been made, and he can only hope that this Devil can come through on his end of the bargain.

Silently, Booker watches through the Lutece Field as Comstock frees himself with the slain guard's keys, arming himself with the fallen shotgun and leaving the dead man behind. The Prophet's hands are bloody, but he doesn't even bother wiping them off.

It doesn't take long for another of Ryan's men to cross Comstock's path, this one stepping out into the corridor that the former Prophet's running down. And Comstock buries the Bowie knife up to the hilt in the unsuspecting guard's shoulder, forcing the hapless fool up against the wall with the barrel of his shotgun pressed against the poor man's throat. And then he starts questioning his victim, twisting the knife slowly to get him to focus.

"Where the hell am I? How did I get here? How did you bastards revive me?" Those questions are just for starters, Comstock keeping a farm grip on the knife and twisting it again whenever the guard's answers start to slow.

While he might be a member of Ryan's security, this fella sings like the proverbial canary, spilling his guts about where they are and why Comstock's alive again. And as the guard goes on, Booker can plainly see Comstock's eyes going wide as he learns the truth about why he was in the cell rather than in an interrogation room. "She's alive? Elizabeth's… tell me where she is!"

A scowl darkens Booker's features as he listens, Comstock's voice suddenly sounding far more menacing; the man's a coldblooded killer, and Booker hasn't a clue as to what Comstock's intentions towards Elizabeth might be. And the unlucky member of Ryan's security forces can hear the menace in Comstock's voice, that much is plainly apparent, he sputtering frantically as he gives up Elizabeth's location.

"Much obliged, pal." Nodding once he has what he needs, Comstock rips the Bowie knife from the guard's shoulder and plunges it into his neck. The act makes Booker recoil from the Lutece Field in disgust, the merciless brutality making him feel nauseous again.

But now Comstock's moving with a purpose, running through the corridors and tunnels of Hephaestus while ignoring any and all paths and doorways that won't take him to Elizabeth. The slain guard's direction had been very clear, apparently.

Comstock guns down two more of Ryan's men as he goes, this pair anything but unaware; they'd come running around the corner with weapons up, searching for something, and Booker can only figure that word somehow got out that this 'Booker DeWitt' got loose.

Finally, a grim expression crosses Booker's features as the images shown in the distinct Lutece Fields become one and the same, Comstock kicking in the door to the operating room and his shotgun thundering a second later. A white clad doctor with a syringe in hand goes down, his back mangled by the shotgun blast and riddled with small, bloody puncture wounds.

"Elizabeth!"

"Booker!" The older DeWitt grimaces as Elizabeth calls back his name, and it's plain from the sound of her voice that she's positively overjoyed by 'Booker's' timely arrival.

"Not for long…" Still watching as Comstock dispatches the cruel doctors and would be interrogators, Booker isn't looking forward to this next part, "Not a chance in hell she's going to be happy about this…"

Comstock slowly cuts Elizabeth's restraints with Booker's Bowie knife while she tries to talk to him, the former Lamb of Columbia still under the mistaken impression that her savior is Booker DeWitt. And it doesn't take a moment for Elizabeth to realize her mistake once she's free, Booker grimacing as he makes out the realization dawning on her alabaster face.

Their reunion goes just about as Booker expects, and he slowly turns from the Lutece Array as anger quickly overtakes Elizabeth's shock. "There's nothing more I can do…" Muttering to himself, the last thing Booker sees from within the Lutece Field is Elizabeth storming out the door, Comstock following closely after her, "At least it's done…"

But as he wearily trudges through the first security door, Booker can't shake a feeling of… wrongness. Of being unclean and empty, his hand in setting Comstock loose on that world weighing heavily on Booker. "But at least Elizabeth's safe for now…"

"I should tell Anna… though she might want to bring Elizabeth here. But… with Comstock alive…" Shaking his head as the middle security door closes behind him and the outer door opens, Booker heaves a deep, unhappy sigh, "Elizabeth wouldn't trust me, not one bit, especially if she saw my Columbia… and that's doesn't even begin to cover my part in all this…"

Booker's troubled mind harries him as he climbs the stairs out of the basement, his gait slow and plodding, the Founder of Columbia too preoccupied with what he'd seen and done over the short time since turning on the Array. Booker's certain that he made the best choice he could at the time, but he can't help but imagine how badly this could play out.

"Don't matter that he's trying to be Booker DeWitt again, the man's _Comstock_… this one didn't imprison and torture Elizabeth, but he's sure as hell capable of it. And then there's what happened to that Anna…" Muttering as he approaches the open door leading to the living room, Booker heaves an annoyed sigh; he'd just have to watch what happens, even if there's little he can do to help.

Stepping back into the living room, the bright morning sun shining into the room from the kitchen, Booker's ears perk up as he makes to close the basement door; voices come from outside, getting closer as Booker turns to look. And not a moment later, the sound of the front door opening fills the quiet home.

"… father?"

"Wha-? I thought…" Booker glances upstairs before turning his gaze back to his daughter, Anna standing in the doorway with just as much surprise in her expression as he'd imagine is on his, "I thought you were still asleep, Anna…"

"Yeah… I thought the same of you… umm…" The look on his daughter's face turns from surprised to one of both embarrassment and suspicion, Anna seemingly unsure which to act on.

"Come on, Miss Anna! Let's get inside… oh." Cornelius Slate's voice comes from outside, the man himself appearing in the doorway behind Anna a moment later, "Morning, Booker!" Beyond Anna and Slate, Booker can make out a handful of people waiting as well, his eyebrow rising curiously.

"… the hell's going on?" He can make out Daisy and her husband, Gerard, a couple of Slate's officers that he knows personally, and even a few of the more prominent citizens of Columbia that he's on good terms with. And he gets a sneaking suspicion when Anna grins slyly at him.

"You managed to get out of your birthday party on Wednesday, so we decided to have a small, belated celebration." She steps close, her delicate hands hidden behind her back.

"Happy birthday, father." Anna quickly slips a red and yellow party hat onto his head, the pointy piece of stiff paper rolled into a cone shape and bearing a spiraling pattern on it. Booker looks around at the small gathering of his friends and family, and all he can do is breathe a long, exasperated sigh.

"Thought I got myself out of this foolishness…" He'd arranged to be out of Columbia on the 19th, finally managing to avoid his birthday, much to the annoyance of his daughter.

His friends and family quickly start laying out the makings of a small party, Booker taking a seat as they work around him. He spies drinks of some sort, a handful of party favors and even a cake appearing on the kitchen counter, Booker speaking up as he eyes the drinks suspiciously, "It's a little early for spirits…"

That draws a chuckle from Slate, Anna shaking her head with a smile as she answers, "Don't worry, father, we won't be turning into booze hounds; it's not alcohol, I swear." With that, Anna goes back to helping set things up. However, she returns after a few minutes, slipping up beside him so quietly that Booker almost doesn't notice until she's right on top of him. "So… father," Anna grins knowingly at Booker, his daughter keeping her voice low, "what were you doing with the Array? You're not planning another trip, are you? Because we both know how the last one went…"

Scowling as he leans back into his seat, Booker heaves another long, exasperated sigh; he really doesn't like birthday parties, his own most of all, and that doesn't even begin to cover Anna almost catching him. "No, I'm not planning anything like that last bit of foolishness, Anna. I promise, I was just helping out a… a friend..."

* * *

** Author's Note: Well, here's a little more regarding the recent Those Left Behind chapter, from Columbia Booker's point of view and just how Comstock broke out of his cell. I'd imagine that ANY Booker would be conflicted if he was given the choice between saving Elizabeth by helping Comstock, or leaving her to a dark fate to let Comstock rot, and it was a fun piece to write. Anyway, this Booker's opened a hell of a can of worms, and we'll see just what happens with the lot of them.**

**I'll be making final checks later, but I'm fairly certain I caught most of the problems that might've cropped up. As usual, I welcome any and all feedback in whatever form it may come. Thanks for reading, and I hope you enjoyed the chapter.**


	12. Pulling Strings

**For new readers, this story is based off of and is tied into several other pieces of mine. If you're not sure where to start, I'd suggest finding Bioshock Infinite: Unbroken, as well as its prequel Unbroken: Song of Sorrow and the continuation Unbroken: I'm Home. Thanks for checking it out.**

* * *

June 3, 1923 11:45 PM

"Gah! Goddamn piece of…!"

The curse echoes off the metal, curved walls of the underground, immediately followed by Booker jerking back and slamming the back of his head against the underside of a metal console. Another curse comes, Booker carefully sitting back on the cold concrete floor. "Ah, hell…" He's seeing starts from the impact, and Booker shakes his head before he gingerly touches the back of his skull, looking for a bump and heaving a tired sigh when he finds it, "Where's those damned twins when you need them…?"

Booker had been under one of the panels of the Lutece Array until he'd pinched his finger and jerked back on reflex, the Founder of Columbia spending much of his time these days in his basement. The reason is simple enough to see; burned out wiring, tubes and many other parts lay strewn throughout the metal, domed room, the Lutece Array damaged and Booker attempting to repair it. The last invention of his world's Rosalind Lutece had overloaded after a certain incident, involving Elizabeth, Rapture, a flying automaton and a wall, the damage to the machine both severe and thorough.

Luckily, Booker had the Luteces to help with this endeavor, or at least had. Robert and Rosalind had modified the Array at his request to allow objects to be pulled into another reality, something not far removed from what Elizabeth herself was capable of before Rapture. But the Array was never designed to perform such a feat, despite the Luteces' efforts. He's been down here all day, his brown pin-striped coat hanging forgotten by the door as he works.

"Wouldn't have gotten this far without those two… then again, wouldn't need to repair anything without them, either." Grumbling, Booker climbs to his feet; the twins have been 'helping' with the repair effort, instructing both Booker and Anna on what needs to be done and providing replacements for unique parts, but they have left much of the actual work up to the DeWitts this time. "Seems they don't much care for manual labor… how the hell did Booker get Robert to help with that bed…?"

And then they vanished a couple days ago; the Luteces had been in Columbia for some time, though Booker doesn't know whether their presence was due to the Array's difficulties or not. Still, the Array is almost repaired, and about time, too; it's been weeks, and Booker's anxious to check on the Elizabeth in Rapture.

"Can't imagine what went wrong, counting on those lunatics…" Silence answers his sardonic remark, and Booker heaves a weary sigh while running his fingers through his mostly white hair. "Alright, back to it…" Ducking back under the console, Booker grabs the frayed, blackened cable he'd dropped while trying to ignore the swollen, aching bump and tossing it onto a pile of like components. "Ah… this ain't a one-man job…"

Despite his grumblings, Booker can't complain too much; sure, the Lutece twins up and vanished while leaving most of the hard work in his hands, but Booker wouldn't have had a shot in hell at repairing the Array without them or his Rosalind. Or he could have been left the role of the silent witness again, only able to help by tossing the occasional object through a Tear. Neither prospect appeals overly much to Booker, and he fetches a replacement for the cable while stifling a yawn.

Anna had been lending a hand earlier, though by now Booker's unsure just how long ago it's been since he'd seen his daughter; underground with no windows to the outside world, it's easy to lose track of time down here. And while Anna has a better grasp of the Array's workings than Booker, he'd still insisted that she's been spending entirely too much time on this. So now she's out with some friends, though the hour feels to have grown late and Anna may have returned home without his notice.

Turning his thoughts back to the repairs, Booker crawls back under the console with the new cable in hand. "Guess having the twins as part-time residents is more helpful than not…" He only admits that grudgingly, yawning as he works. "Damn frustrating though…"

Booker spends the next half an hour working quietly, the relative silence only broken by the occasional crash or curse. It's hard work on his aging body, but Booker manages well enough even with the aches, pains and fatigue, and before long there's nothing left to rip out or replace. The Array still looks a fright with blackened metal, cracked glass and a general sense of disrepair, but the device should be working, though Booker's keenly aware that 'should' isn't a sure thing by a long shot with the Luteces.

Wiping at his forehead with his sleeve, Booker steps away to retrieve his brown coat, pulling it on and rubbing his eyes wearily. "Alright… let's see if the twins got it right this time…" Booker moves back to the Array and pulls the main power lever, half expecting the machine and all the hard work that went into it to blow up in his face.

Nothing happens at first, a moment of silence and apprehension. But the familiar hum fills the room once the moment passes, Booker's relief almost palpable as he sees the blinking lights of the consoles and the pale blue glow of the Array's core returning steadily, "Good to have you back. Now to see you get cleaned up…" Booker shakes his head with a chuckle, chalking up his talking to the Array as his mind telling him to get some sleep already.

"Won't be opening a Tear anytime soon, much less pull something into another world…"

Reaching for the dials on the nearest control panel, Booker takes it slow, not wanting to push his luck with the patchwork repairs on the Array. Starting simple, Booker coaxes a small, coin sized Lutece Field into existence and steadily expanding it. The window between realities is still directed at Rapture, Booker seeing into the twisted Little Wonders Education Facility once more. It seems abandoned and still bears the scars left by Elizabeth and Comstock, though this doesn't surprise Booker.

Booker, Anna and the Luteces had been present when Elizabeth and Comstock escaped the facility, and the twins had given his daughter a small task of her own; a quick word of guidance, Anna briefly stepping in for the original Elizabeth, though the failing Array had forced them to act quickly.

"Elizabeth and the other Elizabeth…" Frowning, Booker directs the Field to Sinclair Spirits and backtracks from there, looking for the girl in question; he's been grappling with the decision to not bring this Elizabeth through a Tear, if only to help her escape the madness of Rapture. The Luteces had advised against it as well, stating that this is her journey and that she has questions of herself that she need find answers to. "They got the original Elizabeth to guide her, wouldn't surprise me if they've got a purpose for her."

Booker's musing comes to a stop when the Field finds Elizabeth; she and Comstock are walking into some run down hotel, disheveled but not looking too worse for wear. "Can't have been more than a week past…" A frown crosses Booker's features; time moves oddly between his world and this time frame. But she's safe, Booker nodding and closing the Field before opening another to a different city.

"New York, this date, eighteen hundred and ninety-seven..."

"He appears to have managed well enough with us."

"It does indeed." Booker scowls, glancing back to find the Luteces standing behind him as Rosalind answers her 'brother'. Opening his mouth to ask where they ran off to, Booker stops and turns back to the Array; he's too tired for the twins' antics, best just check on Elizabeth.

But what he sees through the Lutece field causes him to scratch his head in no small amount of confusion; the other Booker and Elizabeth's apartment is nearly empty, and that worries Booker. It's a stormy afternoon, the Field peering into a time slightly removed from the 'present' of that world, but the apartment's only occupants are little Anna and a young woman he's unfamiliar with. "Who-?"

"That is Eleanor Lamb. A most unusual young woman, and a houseguest of the DeWitts." Robert speaks up, Booker giving him a curious look over his shoulder. "She hails from-" But the male Lutece doesn't get to finish; Booker's counterpart steps into the apartment, soaking wet and with murder in his eyes, and the Founder of Columbia suddenly gets a sinking feeling.

The sinking feeling proves apt as Booker watches his younger counterpart lose his temper with Anna, but what comes next feels like nothing short of a punch to the gut. "Your mother, Eleanor. She has Elizabeth, and she's promised to harm her if..."

"My God…" Tearing his gaze away from the Field to turn on the twins who gave it their name, Booker finds only empty air where they stood, the Luteces already gone from his world. "Dammit…" Looking back to the Lutece Array and turning the clock forward, Booker manages to glean enough from his other self, Eleanor and the Luteces to get a clear picture of what's happened, and it surprises the hell out of him. "How did Eleanor get to New York, and how the hell did her mother's cult follow?!" His thoughts turn to the Lutece Device left in the Silver Fin, but he dismisses the notion, "Something tells me that ain't it, not after a decade…"

Catching up with that reality's present, Booker watches his other self storm into a factory complex and Eleanor infiltrate through the roof, a battle breaking out almost immediately. The watching and worrying about Elizabeth doesn't help the fatigued Booker any, the situation just as nerve-wracking as the fight in the little Wonders facility or the fishery in Manhattan's Lower East Side. He has no idea how long it lasts, just that it seems an eternity.

Only when the Splicers begin to retreat and Elizabeth's reunited with her father does Booker relax, hanging his head and taking a deep breath, only now realizing he'd been holding his breath. The scene before him isn't done, though, Booker and Elizabeth chasing after someone on horseback, and he forces himself to keep watching.

But when Booker sees Lamb escape through a Tear, he knows it wasn't a fluke or a coincidence that all this madness ended up in New York. "Someone's pulling strings behind Lamb and her bunch…" Closing the Lutece Field, Booker begins searching Rapture with another for the exact time and place Lamb fled to; he's not looking for the woman herself, but whoever's responsible for the Tear, though he'd like to play a part in Lamb's downfall for what she did to Elizabeth.

"Alright… whoever you are, you've had your fun. I aint' letting you have your way anymore."

* * *

1:55 AM

A fleeting smile teases at Anna DeWitt's lips as she slips into the pitch black of her home, a yawn chasing it away just as quickly; all in all, today has been a good day, and Anna's glad her father had shooed her out of the house to spend some time with her friends. Walking the city, chatting about inconsequential matters and watching the sunset from atop Monument Lighthouse was a welcome change of pace, after their brief intervention in Rapture, the grease and burned out pieces of the Array.

"I've felt more a mechanic than not as of late…" Muttering softly into the dark, Anna eases the door shut behind her before resting her back against the white painted wood. "Glad to be home…" She'd been out all night and into the early hours of the morning, Anna more than a little exhausted after that and helping her father with the Array all afternoon.

With thoughts of sleep and especially her bed firmly in mind, Anna runs her fingers through her long, dark hair and pushes off the door, wondering if she should slip into her nightgown first or just crawl under her covers while still wearing her blue and gray dress. Still, Anna can't keep a hint of a smile from her lips, "I suppose halfway destroying the Lutece Array was worthwhile…" Pulling those objects into Rapture had been enough to help that Elizabeth escape, as did Anna's short radio message.

"I just hope the Luteces are sure about this… Sinclair, fellow."

When her father first told her about this Elizabeth, Anna had been more than a little skeptical; could a copy made by the questionable genetic science of Rapture truly be the same as the Elizabeth she'd met and embraced? But watching this Elizabeth, Anna found her heart going out to the girl, putting the doubts aside easily enough as she witnessed moments of vulnerability that were just the same as the original. And the fact that the original is reaching out to her speaks volumes to that, though it had surprised both Anna and her father when the Elizabeths started talking over the radio.

"I wonder if father's still in the basement…" Frowning, Anna feels her way to the stairs and begins climbing, "I suppose I should check to see if he fell asleep again… after I change." She's repeatedly found her father in the basement or up in his office, working way too late in the night for his age or nodded off somewhere.

"No, I should check… father? Are you in here?" Stepping off the stairs, Anna knocks gently on the door to her father's office. No reply comes, and Anna breathes a quiet sigh, easing the door open and squinting as light comes streaming into the dark. "Father? Huh…" The office is empty, the lights left on and the monitors on the far wall lit up, and Anna heaves another, this time exasperated sigh.

"Father, you forgot to turn off the lights again…" Moving towards her father's desk and the control panel built onto it, Anna reaches for the off switch, but something catches her eye and stays her hand; there's an image displayed on the monitors across the room, Anna blinking in surprise. "The Array's repaired? Then…" Moving closer, Anna's transfixed by the image on the screen, curios at what her father's looking for as much as what's displayed.

She sees a Lutece Device somewhere in Rapture, but it's not the machine built by Suchong in the Silver Fin. A man in a ragged, stained white outfit tinkering with it, at least until he pulls a lever and the Lutece Device springs to life. And through the Tear, Anna sees a familiar face, her eyes widening as she recognizes who it is. "Son of a…"

* * *

"… bitch…"

Cursing, Booker stares through the Lutece Field at events that have already transpired; the bedraggled man he'd seen with Lamb when she fled New York is a scientist, and not of the sort Rapture favors. "Might be a physicist, seems to know his way around the Lutece Device…" Not that Booker can tell, the scene before him set well after Rapture's fall and sometime around the events that transpired between Eleanor and Sofia Lamb. He stands before a Lutece Device, a Tear flickering within the boundaries of the machine.

How the scientist managed to assemble the hodgepodge Lutece Device, Booker doesn't know, but there it stands. "Must have scavenged parts from Suchong's machine… or gotten ahold of some blueprints of his." Glowering at the man and his machine, Booker growls quietly; there's no way this one Lutece Device could be the cause, not unless he or some other brought Eleanor to the Tear and sent her to New York. "Can't imagine why they'd do that…"

The Tear goes to Columbia, a Columbia that's neither Booker's nor the Comstock's who accompanies Elizabeth now. No, this is the war torn Columbia Elizabeth escaped from. And the Tear opened right to that woman, the one who set Atlas' Splicer on Booker and Elizabeth and sent her men into New York to hunt down Abigail.

"Mercier." The woman clad in Founder blue looks surprised by the Tear opening, but surprise quickly turns to recognition; she knows the scientist, somehow. None of this could have been planned, Booker suspecting the Tear opening to Columbia was due to the scientist copying something from Suchong's design or notes, but it doesn't matter; Mercier is trouble, and this can't be a good thing.

The scientist and Mercier talk, questions quickly turning into a plea for help; he's part of Lamb's cult, that much is clear. Eleanor had escaped to the surface, and he hoped the machine would be able to bring her and Dr. Lamb back. Mercier looks thoughtful as she listens, and Booker gets that sinking feeling all over again. He can't make out the specifics, though, Booker not wanting to risk being found out. The Lutece Field is a two-way window, most of his use of it done at a distance and through a small opening.

A devious grin appears on the woman's lips, and Booker can't help but curse under his breath; it appears she's offering assistance. And when Mercier speaks next, it's just loud enough to pick out bits and pieces, Booker putting them together in his mind; "The Lutece Device isn't capable of opening a Tear into the same world. Two devices in different worlds, however…"

Mercier moves away after bidding farewell, and Booker sees some activity through the Tear before it closes. "Alright, when does this happen…" He doesn't have to wait long, though. Another Tear opens an hour later, though for Booker it's after only a few seconds of moving forward. Instructions are passed on, and the scientist activates his Device while the first Tear disappears again.

Booker briefly sees the deck of a large ship and many little girls when the next Tear opens, the borders of another barely visible just beyond the first, and a figure falls through before the hole in reality shuts again. But Eleanor doesn't end up with the scientist at all; another Tear opens immediately, and the girl from Rapture stumbles through into a dark, trash filled alley.

To his eyes, the Lutece Device in Rapture seemed to spark and the Tear shimmered before Eleanor disappeared, and Booker's eyes narrow as he stares at the now panicking scientist, "That woman must've set him up… send Eleanor to New York under the guise of a malfunction on his part, sic Lamb and her people on Booker and Elizabeth? Sounds like Mercier…" The woman's manipulated Atlas to take a shot at those two, wouldn't surprise Booker if she struck again.

"So she's responsible for all this… again." Muttering as Mercier and the scientist talk again, Booker glares at the raven-haired woman; she's playing everyone for a fool, pulling strings while doing God knows what in Columbia. And nobody is in a position to oppose her.

"Well, that ain't exactly true." Rubbing his chin, Booker looks over the burned, unkempt Array. "Can't get involved directly… but maybe there's someone I can rely on…"

"Father?" Anna's voice gives Booker a jump, he turning back towards the metal door while leaving the thought unfinished. But his mind is racing, coming up with a plan to get involved without putting his city and family at risk. A certain young woman comes to mind, and Booker grins just as Anna steps through the security door.

* * *

**Author's Note: I know, not a big surprise that Columbia's involved in what's going on in New York, though how accurate do you think this Booker's interpretation of what he saw is? Just what do you think he'll do now that he's done sitting on the sidelines, and what about Anna? There's plenty that can go wrong, instigating a sort of cold war between two Columbias.**

**That's it for Alone in the Infinite, though the story isn't done for Booker, Anna or their Columbia, and the other stories shouldn't be ending anytime soon. Exploring the idea of a Columbia without Comstock has been enjoyable, and there's always a chance of revisiting Booker's city in the clouds. Thanks for reading, and I hope you enjoyed the chapter.**

**8/20: No chapter tonight, hope to have it ready by Thursday, next weekend at the latest.**


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